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me Pleasures of the Fhst 

Judy Garland 
On The Yellow Brick Road 

But if you act now, fill out the coupon below 

and mail it along with your check or money order to the 

address indicated... 


Mae West: Incredible Star, The Great Detectives, 

The Continued Saga of Nancy Drew, Bobby Thompson's 

Home Run, Glamor Queens of the 50s, The Mickey Jelke Trial, Ava Gardner, 

Joe DiMaggio, The Robber Barons T Your Hit Parade and Much More. 

A In- ' 

Send to : 

Street . 


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State — D mo neyofder U 

\ enclose ctiecK u 


3IIIB) niuus 

A Kitchen Aide? 

Ah, for the days when men were 
men, and a woman's place was in 
the home. But those days are gone 
forever, says the New Milford, 
Conn, school board, scoffing at 
complaints that its policy of re- 
quiring sixth-grade boys to study 
home economics would lead to 
"Homosexuality" and "Moral 
Decay." The complainants in the 
matter— two Baptist ministers- 
insisted that "having a young boy 
cook or sew, wearing aprons, 
we're pushing a boy into homo- 
sexuality. It's contrary to what 
the home and the Bible have 
stood for. . . .A woman's place is 
in the home, that's where God 
put them — barring unusual cir- 

But the school board continued 
to pooh-pooh the objections and 
explained that the new civil rights 

legislation required that classes be 
integrated. Children in grades 
seven and eight are free to choose 
which of the two courses (home 
economics and industrial arts) 
they want to take, but in the 
sixth-grade the students are 
required to take both one 
semester of home economics and 
one of industrial arts. "That way, 
they can know what they're 
choosing for the next two years. I 
think we are right in this and we 
are going to continue it." 

Going Too Far 

In a letter to the Los Angeles Times, B. V. Barkley of South Laguna, 
California wondered if the people of America weren't taking their 
penchant for fads a bit too seriously: "Don't you think by having 
another Depression that we are carrying this nostalgia craze too far?" 

What Ever Happened To . . . 

Kay Kyser left the entertainment field 20 years ago, following successes 
as a "Swing Era" bandleader and as a star of radio and television 
versions of the "Kollege of Musical Knowledge." Mr. Kyser is now 68 
years old and has quietly entered the service of the Christian Science 
Church in Boston as the manager of the film and broadcasting depart- 

The Trolley, Rediscovered 

An innovation in mass transit 
more than 80 years ago, the trol- 
ley car has been recently redis- 
covered in many of the country's 
cities. In Portland, Oregon, for 
example, transit officials have 
taken options on a fleet of 15 
trolley cars and are attempting to 
acquire the rights-of-way for a 
13-mile route. Incidentally, that 
same Portland route was the 
nation's first interurban trolley 
system 82 years ago. 

Portland is not the only city to 
cast a hopeful eye at trollies. 
Austin, Texas; Dayton, Ohio; 
and Bochester, New York, are 
also beginning to talk seriously 
about laying down some track. 
Trollies are still running in Phila- 
delphia, Boston, San Francisco, 
Newark, Pittsburgh, Shaker 
Heights (Ohio), and El Paso— 
cities which are considering a 

rejuvenation of their current 
system. The reason for all this 
new interest is the effort by cities 
to provide a cheaper, more 
efficient mass transit system 
(cheaper than subways and more 
efficient than buses). And the 
well-publicized problems of the 
newer transit innovations — San 
Francisco's Bay Area Rapid 
Transit system, for example, has 
cities turning back to the past for 
solutions to transit problems, and 
the good old reliable trolley car 
has provided more than 70 years 
of solid service in this country and 

Another Bite From The Big Apple 

New York's Royal Manhattan Hotel, which was once the gathering 
place for tourists and theatre-goers who flocked to its restaurant to 
hear the music of the Big Bands, closed its doors for good this month 
due to losses of approximately $1 million a year. Situated in the heart 
of New York's theatre district, the 27 -story 1300-room hotel remained 
a respectable establishment to the very end, despite the recent decline 
of the surrounding neighborhood. Built in 1928, under the original 
name of Lincoln Hotel, it was sold 10 years later to Max J. Kramer, 
who in turn sold the hotel, in 1956 to William Zeckendorf Sr. who 
changed the establishment's name to the Manhattan. In 1969, it was 
sold again to Grand Metropolitan, Inc., a British concern that added 
"Boyal" to the hotel's name to give it a more English flavor, But 
changes of ownership and names didn't help save the foundering 
hotel; but, as Welton Varner, who worked there since the early 30s 
said, "With things so bad now, who has the money to buy a hotel? And 
who has the money to go out for a night on the town? I guess those 
times are gone for good." 

Publisher : 

Stan Lee 

Alan LeMond 

Art Director: 
Marcia Gloster 

Associate Editor : 
Jean Guck 

West Coast Editor: 

Penny Nicolai 

624 S. LaBreaAve. 

Los Angeles, Calif. 90036 

Art Assistants: 

Mark Wethli, Nora Maclin 

Barbara Altman 

Vice President, 

Administration-Production : 
Sol Brodsky 

Assistant Production Manager : 
Lenny Grow 

Director of Circulation : 
Tom Montemarano 

Vice President, Operations: 
Ivan Snyder 

Advertising Representative: 

Lexington House, Ltd. 

Richard Lasky, Sales Manager 

545 Madison Avenue 

New York, NY 10022 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Front Cover-Judy Garland 
(MGM), Hopalong Cassidy and Clara Bow {Movie Star 
News), a detail from Andy Warhol's "200 Cans of Camp- 
bell's Soup" 1962. (collection of Mr. & Mrs. John Powers), 
Mickey Mouse (Walt Disney Studios); pp. 6-10-Movie 
Star News; pp. 11 13- Gene Calogero, Bill Chatmatz; pp. 
14 IB Movie Star News; pp. 19-21 -Woodrow Gelman; 
pp. 22-26 -Mc Naught Syndicate, Inc., King Features, 
United Features; pp. 27-31 -Russ Jones; pp. 32-33, Wide 
World; pp. 34-37, Marge Waterfi eld; pp. 38 42. Walt Disney 
Studios; pp. 4347-, "Liz" 1984 (collection Ercolo Lauro), 
"Marilyn" 136* Blum Helman Gallery) by Andy Warhol; 
'Three-Way Plug-Scale B, soft" 197D aod "Vacuum 
Cleaner" 1964-71 by Claes Oldenburg I Leo Caste II i Gall efy I; 
"First Landing Jump" 1961 (Museum of Modem Art) and 
"Flush" 1974 [The Woodward Foundation! by Rauschen- 
berg; pp. 4850. Wide World, MGM Records; pp. 51-53 
Nostalgia Press; pp. 54-71— Movie Star News; 

NOSTALGIA ILLUSTRATED is published by Magazine 
Management Co., Inc., Office of Publication 575 Madison 
Avenue, New York, New York, 10022. Published moothly. 
Copyright '- 1974 by Magazine Management Co., Inc., 575 
Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10022. All rights 
reserved. All business inquiries should be addressed to 
Director of Circulation, Tom Monetrnarano, 9th floor. 
Volume 2, Number 3, March 1975 issue. Price 51.00 per 
copy in the US and Canada. Printed in the United States of 

A Revolting Situation? 

The Daughters of the American 
Revolution think that it is not 
kosher to choose a British-born 
woman for one of the most im- 
portant posts in the American 
Revolution Bicentennial Admin- 
istration, Mrs.Marjorie W. Lynch 
had only been an American 
citizen for 26 years when she was 
chosen for the post of deputy 
administrator (she became a 
naturalized citizen in 1948) and, 

say the Daughters, that is just too 
close to the British Crown for 


In Memoriam 

Hazel Wightman who won 45 national tennis titles in 45 years (See 
Nostalgia Illustrated, February, 1975) died at her home in Chestnut 
Hill, Mass. She was 87. She had continued to play tennis when she was 
in her mid-70s, and took part in a tennis match with Florence 
Blanchard in 1961. As a girl of 16, she would go to a tennis court at 
dawn because it was closed to women after 8 A.M. Ms. Wightman was 
enshrined in the Tennis Hall of Fame in 1966 and was named winner 
of the Marlboro Award for her contribution to tennis. Born in Wight- 
man, Calif, in 1886, Ms. Wightman also captured other titles besides 
her many tennis titles— the US national singles championship in squash 
in 1927, a Massachusetts Ping-Pong championship, and once almost 
won in the finals of the national mixed doubles in badminton. 

Richard Whitney, a one-time president of the New York Stock 
Exchange, was credited with halting the Wall Street Panic of 1929. He 
later was sent to prison for embezzlement. Whitney was the son of a 
Boston bank president and seemed to be one on whom Providence 
smiled, with money, success and popularity to his credit. On Black 
Thursday, at the height of the Wall Street panic, Whitney placed the 
most famous order in Wall Street history, "I bid 205 for 10,000 Steel," 
he said, Since United Steel stock was being offered at less than 200 a 
share, his bid had the effect of convincing panicky brokers and big 
investors that bankers still had confidence in the market. He went to 
other blue chip trading posts and offered similar bids. The market 
rallied and the next day he was proclaimed a hero. But Whitney was a 
bad manager of his own financial affairs and in 1938 he was exposed as 
an embezzler. He served three years and four months of a 5 to 10 year 
sentence and was paroled to a waiting family who stuck by him 
completely. His wife and brother eventually paid off every one of the 
hundreds of thousands he borrowed or stole. Mr. Whitney was 86. 

Harry Hershfield, cartoonist, vaudevillian, columnist and wit, whose 
multi-faceted career spanned over 70 years, died in New York after a 
long illness. He was 89 years old. One of 1 1 children of Russian Jewish 
immigrants, Hershfield started working for the Chicago Daily News in 
1899 as a staff artist and cartoonist where he was responsible for 
creating characters such as Abie Kabibble and Desperate Desmond. 
He appeared in vaudeville with Eddie Cantor and George Jessel, wrote 
a newspaper column for over 30 years, and was a regular guest on the 
radio and television program, "Can You Top This?" For the past 25 
years, however, Hershfield was best known as a toastmaster at 
banquets, where his wit as an after-dinner speaker was greatly appre- 
ciated. His best known quips took in an entire range of subjects from 
psychiatry ("A cure guaranteed or your mania back") to native New 
Yorkers ("New York is a city where everyone mutinies but no one 
deserts.") He even had a one-liner for his own death. He quipped that 
his epitaph should read as follows :" Here lies the body of Harry 
Hershfield. If not, notify Ginsburg& Co., undertakers,at once. " 



me Pleasures of the fhst 

Nostalgia News 

Updating the past 

The Canaries 

Looking back 


Memories of marble games 

The Story Of Hoppy 

A Western-style Robin Hood 

Pages From The Life Of Joan Crawford 

Not so long ago, Joan Crawford 
was merely a dancing girl 

The Sporting Life Of Cartoons 

Champions of the funny papers 

Uh, Oh, Here Comes Pete Smith 

When Pete Smith Specialties were 
witty observers of the American scene 

Baseball Quiz 

Around the diamond ivith yesterday's 
great and near-great heroes 

Lydia Pinkham's Vegetable Compound 
More than a patent medicine 

A Very Special Mouse 

Did you know Disneyland was 
started by a mouse? 

Pop Art 

When art was a soup can and a hamburger 

Hank Williams 

The country blues singer 

The Heap Of The Autos 

Artist /writer Crumb 
revisits the autos of the 50s 

The Sultry Sirens 

Their sex appeal and smoldering 
looks made them box office hits 

Johnny Weissmuller : King Of The Jungle 

The most famous Tarzan of them all 

Judy Garland : One For The Seesaw 

Over the rainbow with an extraordinary talent 


||_ _ 

I .ii-^v : .'..:. y 




' , H > 




By Jo Valente 

As always, changing music styles reflected changing times ; in the 30s, the big 
bands with their swinging canaries kept up America's morale. 

The birth of the canaries, 
those liltin' lasses who capti- 
vated our hearts with their 
hot voices and cool looks, would 
never have been possible without 
the parentage of the big bands. But 
neither can it be denied that these 
vocalists did much to attract 
attention to the bands they worked 
with. These women often were 
responsible for putting across the 
style and sound of the orchestra for 
which they fronted, Many of them, 
though, were pop-singers who 
earned a quasi-jazz reputation 
through their association with a 
band that played jazz. But the 
talent of Mildred Bailey, Billie 
Holiday, and Ella Fitzgerald, 
unmistakably the best of the 
canaries, demands that they be set 
apart from the others. They were 
not just hip. If that had been the 
case, then their identities as per- 
formers would be merged with the 
image of the bands they repre- 
sented. It's not fair to remember 
these ladies or the others without 
looking back on swing itself and 
why it was born. In fact, it's not 
possible to describe them or their 
place in music without trying to 
recall its beginning. 

During the period of 1935-1946, 
in what became known as the 
"Swing Era," the greatest mass 

Who sang while America listened? 
Patty, Maxine & LaVerne of the 
Andrews Sisters (bottom): Helen 
O'Connetl 6 Lady Day (top. left). 

conversion in the history of jazz 
took place. Because of the earlier 
limitations imposed on black 
artists, it was perhaps natural that 
the first major breakthrough in the 
acceptance of jazz should be made 
by a white band. In 1934, Benny 
Goodman and his orchestra got a 
big break. An advertising agency 
sold the National Biscuit Company 
an idea for a "Let's Dance Pro- 
gram" that would help launch its 
new Ritz cracker. Goodman 
assembled a radio band the like of 
which had never been heard. 
Within a few months he took his 
band on the road to cash in on the 
national prominence the broad- 
casts brought him. The Fletcher 
Henderson arrangement of "Some- 
times I'm Happy," "King Porter 
Stomp" and the conventional 
vocals sung by Helen Ward, the 
first of the pop jazz singers, earned 
him his famous style identification. 
They got a smooth ensemble sound 
without losing contact with jazz. 
Strangely enough, they were not 
an immediate success. In fact, they 
bombed. It wasn't until they got to 
the Palomar Ballroom in California 
that they became an overnight 
sensation. The immediate reason 
for their success, according to 
Goodman, was, "it was a dancing 
audience — that's why they went 
for it." The 1932 Duke Ellington 
recording of his "It Don't Mean A 
Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing" 
had in the meantime issued a 
manifesto. As the word "swing" 

gained increasing popularity it 
became a new name for jazz. 

As always, changing music styles 
reflected changing times. The stock 
market crash ended the recklessness 
and flamboyance of the 20s. The 
repeal of prohibition in 1933 
liberated jazz from the speakeasies 
and put it into the ballrooms and 
nightclubs. Although the nation 
was struggling with the depression, 
there was less money to spend, and 
pre-war jitters were setting in, the 
people kept up their morale with 
music and dancing. Swing music 
gained popularity by catering to 
the whims of the kids. They were 
still dancing the Lindy and the 
music was just right for it. In a 
matter of months the jitter-bugs 
and bobby-soxers were doing the 
Big Apple and the Shag while the 
bands swung on. 

And who sang the songs while 
America listened? Well there were 
Patty, Maxine and LaVerne {the 
Andrews Sisters), who recorded 
"Apple Blossom Time," "Bei Mir 
Bist Du Shon" and "Boogie Woogie 
Bugle Boy," among many other 
hits of the day. It was pretty and 
pert Helen O'Connell who con- 
tributed greatly to Jimmy Dorsey's 
record success in the early 40s. She 
had been appearing at a club 
called the Village Barn when 
Dorsey discovered her, signed her, 
and started her on her way to 
Swing Era fame. Her husky ren- 
ditions of songs like "Green Eyes," 
"Amapola," and "Tangerine" led 

Above is Martha Tilton who made "And The Angels Sing" such a 
hit in 1939. Opposite page, clockwise from top are the Andrews 
Sisters in one of their wartime production numbers; Mildred 
Bailey ("OV Rockin' Chairs Got Me") was the star of her own 
CBS show in 1944 ; and Helen Ward, the torrid torch singer. 

her to be selected by the trade 
papers as their top canary for three 
straight years. Benny Goodman 
cut a lot of wax with Helen Ward, 
Helen Forrest and Liltin' Martha 
Tilton, who made "And the Angels 
Sing" such a hit in '39. Also 
featured for a while with Glen 
Miller's band was Marion Hutton 
(her sister Betty was a singer then, 
too), a beautiful blonde whose 
presence did much to enhance the 
band's reception. Connee Boswell 
was still held in high esteem even 
after the Boswell Sisters trio dis- 
banded. The other superb girl 
singers were: "Wee Bonnie Baker," 
the "Oh Johnny girl"; Jo Stafford; 
the Four King Sisters (long before 
they started working on the King 
Family); Connie Haines; Francis 
Langford; Alice Faye; Kay Starr 
and a young girl new to the busi- 
ness — Peggy Lee. And there was 
Anita O'Day, who made hit 
records with Gene Krupa like "Let 
Me Off Uptown," and as the case 
with so many others, went on to a 
successful career as a single. 

The first of the important 
canaries of swing, though, was 
Mildred Bailey, the "Rockin' Chair 
Lady." She was a small, dark, 
overstuffed ball of a woman or "a 
little, short, fat, squatty momma" 
as she often described herself. 
Partly of American Indian origin, 
she was inspired by Bessie Smith, 
Ethel Waters and other early blues 
singers and was the first non-black 
girl singer accepted by the jazz 
world. It was she who formed an 
essential bridge between the blues 
and the world of pop music. In 
1927 she joined Paul Whiteman's 
band and became the first of the 
girl band vocalists. She had her 
own CBS radio show in the mid- 
40s and for a time jointly led an 
orchestra with her husband, Red 
Norvo. They were known as Mr. & 
Mrs. Swing. Her recordings are 
available on Columbia's Mildred 
Bailey: Her Greatest Perfor- 
mances. It was her unique rather 
high-pitched tone and sense of jazz 
phrasing, especially in blues and 
ballads, that have earned her a 
lasting place in jazz history. 

Though Billie Holiday became 
popular during the swing era she 

Top, Helen O'Connell. Bottom, the fantastic Ella Fitzgerald. 

remains the jazz world's greatest 
singer. Born in the slums of 
Baltimore, the child of an unwed 
teen-age mother, Billie was a pros- 
titute by her 14th year. She was an 
alcoholic, jail bird, and victim of 
police harassment and exploitation 
right down to the final week of her 
life when she was busted for heroin 

on her hospital bed. Her life was 
tragic, but she maintained an 
artistic distance while she sang. 
Though her bag was torch songs, 
her singing was never despondent. 
She sang not just songs, but experi- 
ences about which she had an 
intimate knowledge. Almost un- 
known when she joined Artie 

Shaw's Orchestra in 1939, she was 
quickly recognized as having a 
voice that conveyed indisputably 
the essence of jazz. She wrote the 
words for "Fine and Mellow," 
"God Bless the Child" and "Don't 
Explain" and earned the respect of 
fellow musicians who affection- 
ately called her "Lady Day." 
Becently, her life was the subject of 
a film, "Lady Sings The Blues." In 
this movie, Diana Ross captured 
the more mannered aspects of the 
artist, but beyond that, the script 
had little to do with Billie's life. 
Discovered in an amateur show at 
age 17, Ella Fitzgerald joined 
Chick Webb's band and dazzled 
fans with her rendition of the 
novelty song, "A Tisket A Tasket." 
Over the years she's built up a 
tremendous reputation among jazz 
musicians and other singers for her 
bell-like clarity of tone, flexibility 
of range and rhythmic brilliance of 
style. She uses these effectively 
both on ballads and rhythm tunes, 
and is at her best when scat sing- 
ing. Band men who play with her 
have been heard to say that they 
tune up to her voice — a compli- 
ment afforded no other performer. 
Ms. Fitzgerald is still singing and 
her appearances are always anx- 
iously awaited. She is publicized as 
the "First Lady of Song" and it 
certainly seems that during her 
many years before the public, she's 
earned the title. 

In the early 50's, Frank Sinatra 
was reported to have stated in an 
interview that the over-emphasis 
on singers contributed to killing the 
big bands. The musicians had by 
choice alienated themselves from 
their fans in order to search for 
material more stimulating to 
perform. The vocalists began to 
take over in popularity and were 
fan -worshipped as much as any 
movie star. When they came on to 
sing, the kids stopped dancing. 
They listened, instead. The era of 
the big bands was over, but the 
singers were popular enough to 
continue without them. Swing is 
gone. But if you were young 
enough and hip enough, if the 
music put you in the groove, if you 
cut a rug doin' the Lindy, or went 
peckin' and truckin' on down, then 
there is definitely no question that 
the music of your favorite song 
stylists, the canaries, still has the 
power to send you and put |JM 
you "in the mood." rwJ 


By Fred Sturner with Adolph Seltzer 

Some games were mostly social and friendly, but there were others not so 
friendly which were run by entrepreneurs — and that included most of us. 

Of all the games I played as a 
kid, I think my fondest 
memories are of the marble 
games I played. Marbles came in 
all sizes, colors and were made of 
various elements. There were the 
kabolas, the oversized marbles that 
resembled the jawbreakers (gum) 
that we used to chew. These 
kabolas were made of glass and 
came in a variety of colors all the 
way up to pure glass. Sometimes 
you were able to get a kabola that 
was made of steel and we affection- 
ately called them steelies. Next in 
line was a marble called the jumbo 
which was a little smaller in size 
than a steelie but was made only of 
glass. Next in size and in worth was 
the regular marble that, as today, 

is in a variety of two or three 
colors. In the same size category 
but of a higher intrinsic value was 
the puree, a marble of one clear 
color, so that when you held it up 
to the sun you could see through it. 
Last, there was the milky, 
which, as the name describes, was 
pure white, the size of a normal 

marble. Down the ladder there 
were the marbles that came in 
various smaller sizes in all assorted 
colors. These were commonly 
called peewees or mibbies. The 
smallest, the size of a ballbearing, 
(in fact most of them were ball- 
bearings) were also affectionately 
called steelies. 

The simplest marble game was 
played in the street against the 
curb. The first person threw his 
marble underhanded along the 
street against the curb followed by 
the next player, and so on down 
until everyone threw his marble. 
The idea of the game was to either 
hit your opponent's marble or span 
it and in that way you were able to 
take and keep his marble. (By 

spanning you have to be able to 
touch your marble with your 
thumb keeping your palm flat on 
the ground touching your op- 
ponent's marble with your small 
pinkie. Needless to say the larger 
your hand, the better off you 

Another game was played on a 
patch of dirt between the sidewalk 
and the street. A circle about 12 to 
15 inches in circumference was 
drawn and in it each kid placed 

knocked out of the circle you could 
start over again, putting new 
marbles in and so on down the line. 
This is a game where a kabola 
really came in handy since it could 
usually bowl its way through a 
crowded circle of marbles and 
knock many out of the circle. 

Another version of the game 
would use the same circle and in 
the middle of the circle an indenta- 
tion the size of a marble. The first 
person to shoot his marble into the 

arch just a little bigger than the one 
before. Above each of these holes 
place the number 1, 2, 3, 4, with 
the #1 over the largest hole, #4 over 
the smallest. These numbers mean 
that if the shooter's marble goes 
into #4, he gets 4 marbles in return 
plus his marble back. If he goes 
into #1, he gets one marble plus his 
own, and so on. 

A different version of this game, 
but one that would give the shooter 
greater odds, was the making of a 

You had to cut off the cover of 
the cigar box and basically you 
were in business. You took the 
cigar box down to the 
curb, but instead of 
placing it against the 
curb, you placed the 
box about a foot from 
the curb, then placed 
the cover so that you 
formed a ramp from 
the front of the box 
up into it. It was very 
important that the 
box be placed at least 
half-way under the 
cover (see illustration). 

five or six marbles. Then each in 
turn would shoot his marble by 
placing it between his thumb and 
forefinger and propelling the 
marble with a forward motion of 
his thumb. The idea was to use one 
marble, referred to as the shooter, 
to knock as many marbles out of 
the circle and thereby keep those 
that you hit out for yourself, pro- 
viding that the shooter itself did 
not get stuck in the circle. In that 
case it had to stay in, and you had 
to wait your turn to shoot again, 
with a new shooter. 

When the last marble was 

hole would take a predetermined 
number of marbles from each 

Those were social games, friend- 
ly. But there were other games not 
so friendly run by the entrepre- 
neurs, and each of us were entre- 
preneurs in our own ways. 

The most famous was the marble 
box. You take an ordinary card- 
board shoebox and with a pencil 
make four square arches equally 
distant along the side of the box. 
The smallest hole should be just big 
enough to let a regular-size marble 
pass through, and each successive 

single opening for the marble in the 
long side of the shoebox. When the 
box was placed against the curb it 
looked like a miniature tunnel since 
there was only one opening and the 
distance was 10 feet away. You, as 
the proprietor, usually gave odds at 
least 8 to 1, depending on how 
many marble boxes were in the 
street for the day. 

Still another version of the 
marble box was made from a cigar 
box. You cut off the cover of the 
cigar box but instead of placing it 
against the curb, you placed the 
box about a foot from the curb 

Very little would stop a marble game from continuing, except a voice that 
said, "Dinner is ready," or "Your father is on his way nome. 

Two different versions of the same game : at top is the marble 
game played with a single opening. The point was to roll your 
marble into the opening and by doing so winning some marbles 
from the proprietor. The number depended on the odds given. At 
bottom is the box with numbered holes. You would win as many 
marbles as the number written above the hole you entered. Of 
course, you lost your marble if you failed to enter any hole at all. 

then placed the cover so that you 
formed a ramp from the front of 
the box up into it. It was very 
important that the box be placed at 
least half way under the cover so 
that a marble rolling up the ramp 
would not go in that easily. Here, 
as in the other marble box games, 
the shooter stood about 10 feet 
away from the marble box. 

Finally, there was the entrepre- 
neur who went into business on a 
shoestring; all he had was marbles, 
no marble box. Here he would 
make use of the sewer in the middle 
of the street. He would draw a line 
approximately 8 to 10 feet away 
from the sewer and the idea was to 
roll your marble toward the sewer. 
If it managed to get through the 
maze of ironwork normally found 
on a sewer, and found its way to 
the middle hole, you would get 10 
or 15 marbles in return. 

Another game that didn't 
require any marble box was played 
as follows: A single marble was 
placed in the street near the curb 
but not touching the curb. The 
customers stood 10 feet away from 
the curb and tried to hit your single 
marble. If you hit it you got the 
number of marbles that the pro- 
prietor advertised. Sometimes the 
person running the game used a 
peewee, thereby "making it ex- 
tremely hard to hit, but the 
shooter, being just as smart, could 
use a kabola and exchange it J - 
after every shot. 


By Ron Fry 

Hopalong was a Western-style Robin Hood, the original lonely good 
guy who rode the range, finding injustice and correcting it. 

Back in the days when video 
addicts were content with 
the athletic, straight-shoot- 
ing, clean living variety of Western 
hero — one unquestionably on the 
side of morality and justice, who 
shaved regularly, always wore 
clean shirts and had few (if any) 
internal philosophical conflicts to 
muddy up the action— William 
(Bill) Boyd was the unrivaled 
master of the frontier. As "Hop- 
along Cassidy," he was idolized for 
decades by most Americans under 
12 (and not a few oldsters), a fact 
all-too-achingly familiar to parents 
everywhere. Thanks to the service- 
ability of celluloid, his films — 
which still occasionally pop up as 
television reruns— earned him mil- 
lions in subsidiary rights and made 
"Hoppy" the longest sustained 
characterization in film history. 

Boyd's humble beginnings were 
no harbinger of his later screen 
success. Born on June 5, 1898, in 
Cambridge, Ohio, he was one of 
five children of William Boyd, a 
laborer, and his wife, Lida. Before 
he reached the age of seven, the 
family had moved to Tulsa, Okla- 
homa. He managed to stay in 
school until he was 13, when he left 
to help support his family; his 
father was killed while attempting 
to rescue fellow workers who had 
been trapped by an explosion on a 
construction job. He held the 
requisite number of odd jobs — tool 
dresser, surveyor, automobile sales- 
man — before setting out, at the age 

of 20, for the land of milk and 
honey— California. 

His funds, unfortunately, ran 
out in Globe, Arizona, where he 
was forced to saw wood in a 
lumber camp. This money got him 
as far as Orange, still some 30 miles 
from Hollywood. With little else on 

the horizon, he decided to try 
Tinseltown, and worked as an 
orange packer and oil driller to 
afford a suitable wardrobe for his 
entrance into the city of lights. 

Boyd's rugged physique, photo- 
genic features and prematurely 
gray hair won him an instant place 

In 1919, the young, pre-maturely gray Boyd found an instant plac 
Hollywoodand a seven-year contract at the tidy sum of $25 per week. 

in Hollywood as an extra in Why 
Change Your Wife (1919), whose 
one claim to fame was its director, 
Cecil B. DeMille. DeMille was 
attracted to the fledgling actor and 
Boyd soon found himself under a 
seven-year contract with Famous 
Players-Lasky at the munificent 
sum of $25 a week. He tried his 
luck in Twentieth Century-Fox 
westerns in 1922 (as a villain), but 
a broken ankle ended his stay — and 
his contract. 

lapse. Then he drifted into lesser 
roles for a number of studios — 
RKO, Chesterfield and Bert Lubin 
the most well known of them. 

The sun was rapidly sinking on 
former star Bill Boyd. Then he dis- 
covered Hopalong. Producer Harry 
Sherman had bought the rights in 
1934 to six of Clarence E. Mulford's 
books about the righteous cow- 
puncher, Hopalong Cassidy. Boyd, 
who had been playing heavies, was 
chosen for the villain role in the 

Hood, was easily identifiable — five 
feet eleven, 180 pounds, blue eyes 
and white hair (which matched his 
horse Topper and contrasted with 
his trademarked all-black outfit 
with the steer-head kerchief clip). 
He was the original lonely good 
guy who rode the range, finding 
injustice everywhere and correct- 
ng it with his straight-shooting six 
irons and his indomitable strength 
of will, a bastion of moral purity 
and sentimental hokum. Hoppy 

A scene from the Paramount Pictures' Thre 
Esttwr Estrella. 

Men From Texas which featured Boyd with Russet Hayden, Andy Clyde, and 

But DeMille had another break 
up his sleeve — the lead in The 
Volga Boatman, a 1926 release, 
which finally brought the 28 year- 
old actor some good notices. King 
of Kings (1927), Two Arabian 
Nights (1928) and Beyond Victory 
followed. By 1932, Boyd was 
earning $2,500 a week under 
contract with Pathe Studios; his 
good speaking voice let him make 
the transition from silents to 
"talkies" with little strain. He 
appeared in Skyscraper, The 
Leatherneck, Officer O'Brien and 
The Painted Desert, among others, 
before his contract was allowed to 

first two productions. 

With a lot of confidence and a 
little Western chutzpah, Boyd 
managed to snag the role of Hop- 
along for the next six pictures ... at 
a blanket salary of $30,000. 

Hopalong's creator, Mulford, 
was a Brooklyn license clerk who 
had never been west of Chicago 
until he had written 28 books 
around the cowboy character. 
Sherman, after exhausting the 
Mulford stories, bought the motion 
picture rights to the character and 
employed a staff of film writers to 
create new stories. 

Hopalong, a Western-style Robin 

was above love, of course, given his 
unspoken "mission" of correcting 
all the wrongs of the West; no 
woman ever touched him (which 
led one writer in the late 30s to 
question his relationship with 
Topper). There were no sad 
endings — unless you didn't like to 
see hundreds of bad men over- 
powered by Hoppy's moral might; 
he always won, of course, because 
he was Good and Unspoiled. 

By 1938 Boyd was an acknowl- 
edged superstar — with a superstar's 
salary, $100,000 a year, to match. 
But managerial disputes began 
(according to a Saturday Evening 

Eventually televised throughout the country, the Hopalong Cassidy series 
won Boyd a whole new legion of fans and made him a millionaire. 

Post article) when Boyd, looking to 
improve the quality of his pictures, 
returned $40,000 of his salary to 
Sherman for the employment of 
better writers and other production 
talent. But then Boyd walked out 
in 1943, surprisingly charging that 


Each production was budgeted 
at a paltry $10,000 and was shot in 
an incredible 90 hours. And yet, 
said a Variety columnist at the 
time, these limitations "in no way 
reflect on the first-rate photog- 

raphy, excellent locations, and 
unusually good musical back- 
grounds." The Devil's Playground, 
first of the new productions, was 
pronounced by the theatrical 
weekly to "have an edge on the 
average western." Bar 20 (1943), 

Sherman had hired "more gen- 
iuses" than necessary. Paramount, 
who had been happily distributing 
the Hopalong films and raking in 
enormous profits, refused to accept 
a substitute for the man who had 
made the role famous. After 18 
months of negotiations, Sherman 
finally agreed to lease (on a sub- 
royalty basis of $25,000 per year) 
Boyd motion picture rights to the 
character for ten years. The actor 
turned producer (with Benedict 
Bogeaus and Lewis Bachmil) 
formed Hopalong Cassidy Produc- 
tions and began releasing his own 
films through United Artists in 

Santa Fe Marshal 
(J 939) 

Texas Masquerade (1944) and 
Riders of the Deadline (1944) are 
considered classics from the Sher- 
man period (out of a total of 54 
films made before the split), while 
Fool's Gold, Unexpected Guest, 
Lost Canyon and Stick to Your 
Guns are considered outstanding 
among the Hopalong releases of the 
new producers. 

Boyd made six films a year, but 
managed to fit the shooting into a 

four-month schedule, leaving him 
free from acting and production 
work for two thirds of the year. In 
1948, Boyd, in addition to his ten- 
year motion picture lease on the 
character, purchased all other 
rights from Mulford, Through this 
transaction, as the Post reported, 
the actor "compounded what 
appears to be a magic formula for 
extracting a maximum of profit 
from a minimum of outlay." 

In Riders Of The Timbertine( 1 941), Boyd wore a It 
later to ajject in the role oj Hopalong Cassidy. 

s conspicuous hat than he was 

In 1949, when 54 of the Hop- 
along films became eligible for 
television (films had to be seven 
years old before television rights 
could be exercised), NBC paid 
Boyd $250,000 for the weekly 
video presentation of a Hopalong 
script. Eventually televised 
throughout the country, the Hop- 
along Cassidy television series won 
Boyd a whole new legion of fans 
. . .and healthily increased at- 
tendance at theatres showing 
revivals of his films. 

Hopalong made two debuts in 
January, 1950— on radio and in a 
comic strip. The Sunday afternoon 
broadcast over the Mutual network 
was heard on over 500 stations at 
its peak by an audience estimated 
at 25 million. The comic strip 
(syndicated by the Los Angeles 
Mirror) was bought at the outset by 
50 newspapers (and later expanded 
to hundreds more). Hopalong 
comic books (15,000,000 distrib- 
uted in 1949),' records (50,000 in 
1949) and novelty items (manu- 
factured by 35 concerns paying five 
percent royalty to Boyd for the 
brand name) kept the character 
alive for another decade after 
Boyd's final film appearance. In a 
1949-50 personal appearance tour 
of 26 cities, more than a million 
fans turned out to cheer their hero. 
Hopalong Cassidy made Boyd a 
millionaire many times over, 
which just proves one of Hoppy's 
favorite dictums — Good always 
triumphs over Evil. . .Because it's 

Boyd married his third wife, 
Grace Bradley of Brooklyn, in 1937 
and lived with her on a sprawling 
California ranch christened "Boyd's 
Nest." During World War II, they 
lived in Los Angeles so that he 
might take part in the Armed 
Forces Radio Service Shows (he 
performed in 125) and make 
transcriptions for the occupation 
forces (which he continued to do 
for years). 

Boyd came to identify strongly 
with the character he portrayed. 
As Sidney Skolsky once related in 
his column, he would never say, "I 
am going on tour," but "Hoppy's 
going on tour." 

On a cold day in 1972, 20 years 
after his last appearance in a movie 
(an unbilled guest appearance in 
The Greatest Show on Earth), 
Hoppy started out for his final EH 
tour. . .shooting up the stars. [jRrf 

pfliGis mom tihii u« 
m joflin cmwfORD 

A nostalgic chronicle of the career of the 21-year-old starlet "known for her 
lovely brown hair" who became one of the all-time greats of movie history. 

She arrived in Hollywood in 
1925 at the tender age of 21, 
for a try at the movies. Her 
name then was Lucille LeSueur, 
and remained that for a while even 
after she was under contract to 
MGM. The original caption on the 
back of one of her publicity photo- 
graphs read: "This is> Lucille 
LeSueur who is known for her 
lovely brown hair." It wasn't long 
before Movie Weekly held a now- 
famous contest introducing the 
new starlet and asked readers to 
help give her a new name. "Name 
Her And Win $1,000" read the 
headline. The description of Lucille 
was as follows: "She is an auburn- 
haired, blue-eyed beauty and is of 
French and Irish descent. Second 
only to her career is her interest in 
athletics, and she devotes much of 
ner spare time to swimming and 

"Mr. Rapf selected her as being 
the ideal young American girl of 

"And her first starring role will 
be in 'The Circle,' a screen version 
of the noted play." 

The name the judges picked, of 
course, was Joan Crawford, which 
the actress hated so much that for 
the next three years she called her- 
self Jo-anne. 

Featured here are pages from 
early movie magazines which 
helped boost the career of a re- 
markable woman and a very fine 


vas discovert as Luellk LeSueur dancing in "The Passing Show," 
was offered * screen test by Harry R d p( of Metro-Goldwyn- 

A contract followed the test and Joan found herself in ihe 

n 1925. Called the "Venus of the Screen." She is 5 feet. 4 

all, weighs 110 and has dart red hair and blue eyes She was 


Sjn Anto-io, Ti-..-;. War-.'h 33, 1909. On June 3, 1929, she 

ned to Douglas fairbanks, Jr , and is cons.dercd one of the most 

members of the flicker colony. 


OAK CRAWFORD got her start in pictures because she could dance. 

And how! But she has made a lot of progress since those days of the 

Winter Garden chorus and she is now playing prominent roles in Metro- 

Goldwyn films. You'll see her next in "The Taxi Dancer." 

Another miracle in this age of in- 
vention. Joan Crawford carries a 
hand-bag with a wooden handle in 
which is concealed a lip-stick and 
a vial of perfume 




By Ron Goulart 

Joe Palooka in 1930 was a most ungodly-looking thing, though Fisher claimed 
he was years ahead of everybody else in inventing a continuity strip. 

One of the least celebrated of 
spectator sports is the par- 
taking of entertainments 
based on athletics. Yet there is a 
long line of movies, plays, novels 
and even comic strips built around 
sports. Leaving the likes of Pride of 
the Yankees, Golden Boy and 
Semi-Tough to later chroniclers, 
we'll concentrate on the newspaper 
strips, particularly the relatively 
serious ones, devoted to the 
sporting life. 

In the first two decades of this 
century, cartoonists were not 
thought of as too respectable, 
which may have been one reason 
why a lot of them liked to hang 
around with other semi-outcasts 
such as actors and professional 
athletes. One of the first artists to 
exploit his lowlife connections was 
Tad Dorgan, whose widely circu- 
lated panel Outdoor Sports (it 
alternated with Indoor Sports) 
provided an insider's view of 
boxing, baseball, etc. Mutt ir Jeff, 
of course, was even older and had 
originally been created to pass out 
horse racing tips. Once it caught on 
and was syndicated, Bud Fisher 
and his various ghosts dropped the 
tips in favor of reworking 
vaudeville jokes, In the summer of 
1922 Billy DeBeck, another cele- 
brator of American lowlife, was 
inspired to have his Barney Google 
fall heir to a racehorse named 
Spark Plug. This made a rich man 
of both Google and DeBeck, 
eventually inspiring Billy Rose and 

Ed Fisher, creator oj Joe Palooka, 
seems to have been an unhappy man. 

a couple of his pals to write a song. 
While DeBeck used continuity, 
building suspense by stretching a 
race across a week or more, he was 
always a comedian determined to 
get a laugh in each strip. Less 
funny and somewhat closer to 
being an adventure strip was You 
Know Me, Al. Credited to Ring 
Lardner and based on his baseball 
stories about Jack Keefe, the strip 
was drawn by Tad's clumsy 
brother Dick Dorgan. Not much of 
a strip, it managed to hang on for 
several years in the 20s. But the 
first really successful straight sports 
strip was the creation of a 
pugnacious young man from 
Wilkes-Barre. He was a mediocre 
writer and could barely draw, but 
he had an idea and he believed he 

could sell it. 

Hammond Edward Fisher had 
been nurturing the idea for, ac- 
cording to him, almost a decade 
before it was accepted, The 
inspiration hit him in either 1920 
or 1921, depending on which auto- 
biographical piece you read. 
"One day, while talking to an un- 
sophisticated but good-natured 
prizefighter, I was suddenly hit by 
the idea for Joe Palooka. I rushed 
back to the office, wrote a contin- 
uity and made the first drawings of 
Palooka. Joe and I went immed- 
iately to New York', offered 
ourselves to all the syndicates, and 
were turned down by all of them 
. . .We kept returning to New 
York, whenever we had the 
money, But nobody seemed to 
want Joe Palooka ... I went to New 
York in 1927 with two dollars and 
fifty cents over my carfare and 
landed a job in the advertising 
department of the New York Daily 
News . . . Then I left the News and 
went to McNaught Syndicate and 
for the first time had the good 
fortune to meet Charles V. 
McAdam, general manager and 
vice-president, who offered to try 
out Joe Palooka the following 
year. I insisted upon going out and 
selling the strip to the newspapers 
myself. To prove my sales ability, I 
first took Dixie Dugan, which had 
been offered to all the newspapers 
before. Only two papers had 
bought the strip and the amount of 
revenue did not even pay for one 

j wo mo, JQ C MU.OOK* 

HCMWVMUbHT champion c 

The early Joe Palooka was pretty much of a rube and he wins the heavyweight title pretty much by a fluke. 

day's engraving expenses." The 
forceful Fisher shoved the Dixie 
strip, then called Show Girl, into 
over two dozen papers. "Then I 
insisted on going out and selling 
Palooka. . .While McAdam was on 
vacation in Florida, I took Joe 
Palooka on the road and sold the 
strip to twenty papers in three 
weeks." An insight into Ham 
Fisher's sales methods can be 
obtained from the autobiography 
of Emile Gauvreau, headman on 
Bernard MacFadden's Graphic 
before becoming editor of the 
Daily Mirror. "I bought my last 
comic strip one New Year's Eve 
when Ham Fisher, known in New 
York circles as the 'pride of 
Wilkes-Barre, Pa.,' an enthusiastic 
cartoonist who sought to introduce 
his wares to the metropolis, befud- 
dled me with a rare bottle of 
Burgundy during a hilarious cele- 
bration. When I woke the next day 
I found I was sponsor of ']oe 
Palooka,' an exemplary character 
who never drank or smoked and 
was good to his mother. Strangely 
enough, 'Palooka' became one of 
the most successful ventures in the 
comic field and soon had Fisher 
living in affluence and riding an 
Arabian horse in Central Park." 

Fisher's achievement in selling his 
strip, even with the aid of liquor, 

Ray Gotto 's Ozark Ike arrived in 1945, a meticulously rendered feature about a 
ballplayer. © King Features used by permission. 

was considerable. Joe Palooka in 
1930 was a most ungodly-looking 
thing. Though Fisher later claimed 
he was years ahead of everybody 
else in inventing a straight contin- 
uity strip, the first Palooka dailies 
were drawn in a very shaky imita- 
tion of the other Fisher's Mutt fa- 
Jeff. Rumors persist, at least among 
older cartoonists, that Ham Fisher 
never even drew the sample weeks 
of Joe Palooka but hired a high 
school art student to whip them up 
for him. Lyman Anderson told me 

he can remember being stopped on 
a Manhattan street by Fisher in the 
late 1920s and being offered a 
chance to illustrate a great strip 
idea. Anderson turned him down. 
The early Joe Palooka was pretty 
much of a rube, and early contin- 
uities were built around his dumb- 
ness. He wins the heavyweight title 
in 1931 by a fluke. This victory had 
a pronounced effect on him and his 
manager Knobby Walsh, an ex- 
haberdasher. They both become 
much better-looking, and Joe's hair 

After winning the championship, Joe's hair turned to blond. Joe Palookas(rips © McNaught Syndicate, Inc. used by permission. 


Several sports strips came into being in the 1930s. Of varying degrees of 
seriousness, few of them survived the decade. 

turns from black to blond. His 
stupidity begins to recede, though 
he never ceases saying, "youse." 
The reason for these improvements 
in everybody's looks is that Ham 
Fisher could now afford to hire 
better ghosts. The list of twenty 
subscribing papers had grown to 
several hundred. Ann Howe, Joe's 
society girl sweetheart, made her 
first appearance in 1932. The 
earlier artist, whether Fisher him- 
self or that high school boy, could 
never have drawn a pretty blonde 
like her. The following year, Fisher 
signed on his best known assistant, 
setting the stage For a bitter feud 
which would continue throughout 
his lifetime. Like most oft-told tales 
there are several versions of how 
Ham Fisher first met Al Capp. The 
most sentimental version, most 
nearly akin to the softhearted con- 
tinuities of the Palooka pages, 
appeared in Martin Sheridan's 
Comics and Their Creators in 1942 : 
Al returned to art school in Mas- 
sachusetts and landed in New 
York in 1933 with six dollars. 
While walking along the street 
near Central Park South, a long 
car of expensive make pulled up 
beside him . 

"I've made a bet with my 
sister that the roll under your 
arm consists of cartoons," the 
driver said. 

"You're right," Al smiled. 
The man in the car introduced 
himself as Ham Fisher, the car- ' 
toonist of Joe Palooka, and of- 
fered Al a job as assistant. 
Capp already had visions of hill- 
billies dancing in his head, so it was 
only natural he'd introduce them 

into the Palooka saga. While barn- 
storming through the South, Joe is 
matched against the Tennessee hill 
champ Big Leviticus. A year later 
Capp left his mentor to set up his 
own hillbilly business with Lil 
Abner. As late as 1942 he was 
speaking kindly of Fisher — "I owe 
most of my success to him, for I 
learned many tricks of the trade 
while working alongside of him." 
There was some cooling and in 
1948 Fisher was openly accusing 
Capp of stealing his ideas. Capp's 
remembrance of that incident near 
the park had changed. Newsweek 
reported, "In 1933 Fisher literally 
picked him off the street. Capp 
insists Fisher thought he was a syn- 
dicate messenger, but the latter 
claims he recognized Al as a hapless 
young cartoonist ('I was a literate 
gentleman, and Mr. Capp a wild- 
haired boy.*)" When Fisher brought 
Leviticus back into his strip he 
bluntly announced to his readers, 
"The first hillbillies ever to appear 
in a comic strip were Big Leviticus 
and his family. Any resemblance to 
our original hillbillies is certainly 
not a coincidence." This prompted 
Capp to complain to the National 
Cartoonists Society that Fisher was 
"reflecting discredit on the society." 
As to their personal relationship, 
Capp told Newsweek, "I tried to 
ignore him. I regard him like a 
leper. I feel sorry for him but I 
shun him." 

Ham Fisher's feelings toward 
Capp did not mellow with the 
passage of years. Unlike Palooka, 
he was not much for forgiving. He 
is said to have later carried on a 
campaign among fellow cartoonists 

to prove that Li'l Abner was porno- 
graphic. He carried wads of 
clipped Capp strips around with 
him, along with the ever present 
long lists of all the papers currently 
carrying Joe Palooka. Capp struck 
back in that magazine for literate 
gentlemen, The Atlantic Monthly. 
The April, 1950, issue contained 
his / Remember Monster, several 
thousand anti-Fisher words. 
Though never mentioning him by 
name, Capp made it quite clear 
whom he meant. 

When fans ask me, "How does a 
normal -looking fella like you 
think up all those-b-r-r!!!-crea- 
tures?," I always evade a 
straight-forward answer. Be- 
cause the truth is I don't think 
'em up. I was lucky enough to 
know them— all of them— and 
what was even luckier, all in the 
person of one man. One verita- 
ble gold mine of swinishness. It 
was my privilege, as a boy, to be 
associated with a certain treas- 
ure-trove of lousiness, who, in 
the normal course of each day of 
his life, managed to be, in daz- 
zling succession, every conceiv- 
able kind of heel. 
From the perspective of his own 
affluence, Capp's Depression job 
with Fisher didn't look so good. 
"He paid me $22 a week, and 
although I had no responsibilities 
but just one wife, one baby, one 
cellar apartment, and only one kid 
brother at Ohio State who needed 
$3 a week to live on (he lived on 
carrots and unguarded milk), I 
wasn't a good manager I guess. I 
was always broke near the end of 
the week." Capp finished off his 


Forced Landing! I 

joeStwo BLOWS 

Joe Jinks started life in Joe's Car in 1918. Throughout the 20s Joe toyed with cars, then planes and finally in the 30s became a 
fight manager. Joe Jinks © King Features, used by permission. 

y s 

/n 1950, illustrator John Cullen Murphy got together with Al Capp's brother to create Big Ben Bolt. © King Features used by 

piece with, "the wounded have 
been beguiled by books and ser- 
mons and comic strips into 
believing that something called 
Life Itself will, itself, punish Evil. 
Mostly, it doesn't. It didn't punish 
my Benefactor. He grew richer and 
healthier, more famous and more 
honored. He kept no old friends, 
but he made lots of shiny new 
friends. Nothing happened. He just 
grew older and eviler." 

Ham Fisher had no trouble 
hiring new assistants. The two men 
who worked with him longest were 
Phil Boyle and Moe Leff . Leff , and 
this is probably, not a coincidence, 
had also been an assistant to Al 
Capp. The tremendous jump in 
quality which Lil Abner made 
from the mid-Thirties on, particu- 
larly with the addition of all those 
voluptuous women, was chiefly 
due to Leff. He'd drawn a Sunday 
page for United Features before 
joining Capp, a handsomely done 
kid fantasy page titled Peter Pat. 
Moe Leff greatly improved the 
looks of the Palooka strip, too, 
moving Joe even further from the 
rube image. He also drew the self- 
portrait of Ham Fisher which ac- 
companies the Comics and Their 
Creators profile. Fisher probably 
had something to do with the 
writing of the feature, since Joe's 
manager Knobby's adventures 
seem to reflect some of Fisher's 
apparent feelings about himself. 
When Joe wasn't defending his title 

or hiding out from the law for a 
crime he didn't commit or serving 
in the French Foreign Legion, the 
strip concentrated on detailing 
Knobby's numerous unsuccessful 

Joe Palooka has frequently been 
held up as the liberal answer to 
Little Orphan Annie. Fisher's 
supposed liberalism, and his much- 
photographed relationships with 
FDB and Harry Truman, may 
have been real. But the Palooka 
strips plugging enlisting, several 
months before Pearl Harbor, and 
support for sundry other worth- 
while liberal causes read now like 
the most shallow kind of sound 
truck rhetoric. "The freedom train 
as I said is being sent to over 300 of 
America's largest cities and it will 
give every man, woman, and child 
a chance to see the most thrilling 
documents in our history," Joe tells 
his handler in a typical fervid 
moment. "It will be guarded by 
U.S. Marines because aboard will 
be the Declaration of Indepen- 
dence. . ."When Joe finishes listing 
the contents of the train, the 
handler exclaims, "Say, Joe, what 
day will it be here? I want my kids 
to see it. I'd rather they'd see those 
than anything in the world!" 

In spite of his success and his 
friendships with celebrities (fre- 
quently mentioned in the strip), 
Fisher seems to have been an 
unhappy and unliked man. In a 
1948 autobiographical strip which 

Colliers magazine ran as part of a 
series on top cartoonists, Fisher is 
shown talking to an aspiring young 
cartoonist in the final panel. "It 
must be WONDERFUL. I'm 
gonna be a CARTOONIST, too," 
blurts the freckled youth, Fisher 
tells him, "PHOOEY! Lissen. . .ya 
doin' anything for dinner tonite . . . 
I'm LONESOME!" His suicide in 
1956 bore this- out. Joe is still in the 
newspapers, though not in as many 
as during Fisher's day. The strip is 
drawn by the uninspired pen of 
Tony DiPreta. Joe is not a rube at 
all now, and he rarely fights. 

Several sports strips came into 
being in the 1930s. Of varying 
degrees of seriousness, few of them 
survived the decade — Rube Apple- 
berry, Buck Haney, Bullet Benton, 
Ned Brant, Curly Harper. Those 
last two were about college 
athletics. Ned's rather dull adven- 
tures were allegedly written by Bob 
Zupke, head football coach at the 
University of Illinois. Curly thrived 
only in a Sunday page which 
accompanied Tim Tyler's Luck. 
Credited to Lyman Young, the 
page was actually created and 
drawn by Nat Edson. A more suc- 
cessful jock-oriented feature was 
Joe Jinks. Joe had been in the 
funnies since 1918, starting life in 
Joe's Car, a strip drawn originally 
by Vic Forsythe for the New York 
World. Throughout the 20s Joe 
Jinks toyed with cars, then planes 

{Continued on page 74) 

.oiHis mm comis 
pcre smiTiHi 

By Russ Jones 

"Pete Smith Specialties" took a light-hearted look at all our pet peeves and 
idiosyncrasies, and kept movie audiences rolling in the aisles for two decades. 

If you're over 30 years of age, 
chances are you can remember 
going to the movies and seeing 
two features, a cartoon, a newsreel, 
and a short subject — all for what it 
now costs for a bag of pre-made 
popcorn. And if you do recall those 
days, then you had to have seen 
some "Pete Smith Specialties." 

Pete Smith broke into show 
business as a secretary to the 
general manager of a vaudeville 
performers' union, and moved to 
the weekly publication that the 
union published. When the maga- 
zine went under. Smith moved to 
Billboard as movie editor and 
critic. Many jobs later he became 
head of MGM's publicity depart- 
ment, then on to their advertising 
arm. In 1931 he was chosen to 
write and narrate Metro's factual 
short subjects, which soon became 
his full-time job. 

For four years Smith turned out 
a string of short subjects for the 
studio, including a ten-film series 
titled, "Goofy Movies." The films 
aren't great, but they are memor- 
able, and what really pulled these 
films off was Smith's amusing 
narration. In one of the films in the 
series, an actor falls into the water 
and Smith comments, "His suit is 
ruined! And he was to speak at the 
Actors Equity that night!" 

In 1935 MGM gave Smith his 
own series, "Pete Smith Special- 
ties." He produced between 10 and 
18 shorts a year for the next 20 
years, without abating. More than 

A publicity drawing of Pete Smith, who produced shorts from 1935 to 1955. 

20 of his subjects were nominated 
for Academy Awards, two winning 
the coveted citation. 

In author Leonard Maltin's book 
The Great Movie Shorts is an in- 
teresting comment from Smith: 
"These shorts were a highly per- 
sonalized undertaking. In other 
words, I was in on every phase of 
production starting with the idea, 
writing of scripts (our story con- 
ferences went on for hours; every- 
one took a turn at acting out 
sequences); frequently I sat down 
at a typewriter and rewrote 
sequences rather than go into long 
meetings with the writer and 
director when the rush was on. In 
fact, we were a team and no one 
felt offended when someone else 
came up with an idea in his or her 
department and helped out." 

During the 30s and 40s MGM 
left Smith pretty much on his 
own. They gave him a fixed 
amount of money per year and he 
was free to do whatever he wanted. 
Most of the shorts cost around 
$20,000; the ones where he used 
stock footage cost less, but those 

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lack Cummi 

ith, Dave O'Brien c 

nd George Sidney 

on set of Kiss Me Kate 

i unsuspecting customer trips over Dave O'Brien's foot in "Movie Pests" (1944), a guide for handling these nuisances. 

Dave O'Brien had been active in films for years as an actor, writer and direc- 
tor. In 1942, Pete Smith picked him as the Number One fall guy for his shorts. 

shot in Technicolor cost more. 

Smith also had some of the best 
voting directors on the lot. George 
Sidney, who later went on to direct 
such films as Showboat, The Three 
Musketeers and Scaramouche was 
among them. Jacques Torneur, 
and Fred Zinnemann were also 
active in the Pete Smith stable. 

Smith even produced several 
movies in 3-D. His .film, "Quicker 
'n a Wink" won an Academy 

Will Jason, one of Smith's best 
directors, suggested using actor- 
stuntman Dave O'Brien to star in 
the series. O'Brien had been active 
in films for years, and can be seen 
in such films as 42nd Street and 
Footlight Parade as well as the 
popular ■'Reefer Madness." O'Brien 
had done work for Smith as early 
as 1940, a's a writer (under the 
name of David Barclay), director 

and actor. But in 1942 he became 
Smith's No. 1 fall guy. 

Smith recalls: "Sometimes, de- 
veloping laugh situations had its 
complications, as for instance the 
time we needed a real live bumble- 
bee (the prop ones looked too 
phoney) to crawl up Dave 
O'Brien's naked back and..up under 
his toupee while he was sunning 
himself on the patio couch. It just 
happened that bumblebees were 
out of season at the time. I reached 
the nearest beekeeper who could 
produce a bumblebee at Indio, a 
few hundred miles away in the 
desert. I needed such a bee and 
several stand-in bees the following 
day, or hold up a whole sequence. 
It was too good to drop: So I dis- 
patched a driver and a studio 
limousine to the desert at midnight 
(studios always transported im- 
portant passengers in limos). Our 



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The victim arts his revenge as he gleefully stomps on movie pest O'Brien's toes. 

bumblebee and stand-ins arrived 
on the set the following morning, 
just in time for Dave's big scene. 
No, the bumblebees were not 
trained to take direction. The 
action was started with the bee 
under Daves hairpiece. To escape 
it crawled down his back. The film 
was then reversed when cut into 
the picture. 

"The topper came a week later. 
As I looked out of my office 
window there, sitting peacefully on 
the pane, was a nice fat bumble- 
bee. His season in Culver City had 
arrived, and like most everyone 
else, he was trying to get into the 

Some of the best of the O'Brien 
series were based on various 
"pests." The first film in the series, 
"Movie Pests," was nominated for 
an Academy Award as Best One- 
■Rcel Subject of 1944. The tag on 
this very funny short is when Smith 
narrates, "Don't you sometimes 
wish..." and then shows deliri- 
ously happy moviegoers taking 
revenge on those hideous pests. A 
man cuts the feathers off the hat of 
a woman in front of him, another 
stomps on the toe of the dummy 
with his foot in the aisle, and it 
goes on and on. 

Of course, the O'Brien shorts 
were not the only iron in Pete 
Smith's fire during the 40s. During 
the war, he produced morale- 
boosting and instructional films, 
which for the most part, were pre- 
sented in a lighthearted manner, 
again featuring O'Brien. 

One of the best wartime shorts 
was "Fala" (1943), an "autobio- 
graphical" short of President 
Roosevelt's popular dog, who (in 
Pete's voice) tells the audience 
about a typical day in his life. This 
short combined both newsreel and 
stock footage with new material 
that was actually shot at the White 
House in color with Fala playing 

A Technicolor sequel, "Fala At 
Hyde Park," was produced several 
years later, with the script 
approved and slightly revised by 
the President. 

The postwar period brought 

manv changes to Hollywood, and 


Top: Dave O'Brien signs long-term 
contract to Smith as his main actor, 
writer and director in 1945. Right: 
O'Brien assumes a relaxed pose in scene 
from the Smith short "What I Want 
Next. "Bottom : Publicity photo of 
Dave O'Brien. Before signing on with 
Smith, he had had extensive experience 
in films as both an actor and a stunt- 

The O'Brien shorts weren't the only iron in Smith's fire. During the 40s, he 
produced morale-boosting films, including an "autobiography" of FDR's dog. 

to MGM in particular. For some 
reason, the Pete Smith shorts were 
not affected in the least. Some of 
the series' best, in fact were 
produced in the late 40s and early 

"Those Good Old Days" is 
perhaps one of the best. Dave 
O'Brien played an incongruous 
gentleman in days of yore. The 
film also included one of the series' 
all-time wildest gags: after pro- 
posing marriage and being ac- 
cepted, Dave leaves his girlfriends 
home "walking on air" — literally! 
(Dave's wife, Dorothy Short, 
played the role of his sweetheart as 
she did in all his other shorts since 

Another of Smith's better shorts 
was "Things We Can Do Without" 
(1954), which poked fun at new 
household appliances. Before the 
short was over — you guessed it— 
everything went wrong. 

After having completed his run 
of films for the 1955 season, Pete 
Smith announced his retirement 
from show business, due to a heart 
condition. His final short was a 
tribute to Dave O'Brien, titled 
"The Fall Guy." Pete introduced 
Dave as "the number one fall guy 
in the business," and proved it by 
showing clips from the best of the 
long, durable series. 

In 1955, the Academy of Motion 
Picture Arts and Sciences presented 
Pete Smith with a special award. It 
read: "To Pete Smith for his witty 
and pungent observations of the 
American scene in his series of 
"Pete Smith Specialties!" It was an 
award well deserved, for over 20 
years, Pete Smith had himself 
become part of the national scene 
— an institution. 

To this day. on television com- 
mercials, one will hear the familiar 
Pete Smith voice, done by several 
imitators (some of which are quite 
good) using the old sight gag 
routine. But this only proves more 
than ever that the popularity lajip 
of his shorts will endure. JZShU 

Top: Pete and MIT's Dr. Harold 

Eggerton performing some scientific 
experiments. Bottom: Posing with Miss 
Perfection of 1938, Dorothy Belle 

ifilSdlfilUL QUIZ 

By Michael Valenti 

1. Many of baseball's most feared 
sluggers have whacked three or four 
home runs in a single game, some 
swatting three several times in their 
careers. Yet the player who holds the 
record for the most home runs hit in 
consecutive games — eight in eight 
straight games— was an itinerant first 
baseman in the 50s and early 60s who 
played with four different teams and 
never caught on with any of them. His 
record is especially impressive when 
you consider that no other player has 
homered in more than six straight 
games, and even the mighty Ruth's best 
effort was only five. Do you remember 
this tantalizing streak-hitting first- 

2. Over a 78-game stretch in 1962, this 
20>-year-old second baseman handled 
418 chances in the field without com- 
mitting an error, establishing a dazzling 
fielding record that still stands today. 
That year he was named National 
League Rookie of the Year. But after 
just one more successful season in base- 
ball, with the fans- and players of a 
lowly franchise excited about the 
team's pennant chances, he never 
played in another game. Can you 
name this superlative glove man? 

3. One of the best clutch-hitting short- 
stops ever to suit up, and one of the 
youngest player-managers ever to pilot 
a big-league team, he inspired his 
players in a flamboyant season of 
stunts and giveaways to bring a hotly 
contested pennant to a Great Lake city 
for the first time in 28 years. Who was 
this "boy genius" who cracked out two 
home runs in the winner-take-all one- 
game playoff? 

4. Only eight players have amassed 
more than 1,500 lifetime bases on 
balls. As you'd expect, seven of the 
eight were among baseball's outstand- 
ing sluggers — who were frequently 
either walked intentionally or pitched 
to very carefully. But the man who 
ranks fifth in this select company 

of Gehrig, 
Mays) was i 
light-sticking lead- 
off man who averaged 
fewer than eight home 
runs a season. Yet he 
aged to wangle a free ticket to 
first 1,614 times. Do you recall 
this pesky foul-off expert, ki 
his time as "The Walking Man"? 

5. World War II saw many oddities 
occur in the national pastime, as the 
drafting of 11 million young men thin- 
ned out the ranks of professional 
athletes. One promotion-minded own- 
er met the challenge by hiring a one- 
armed player to patrol a sector of his 
outer real estate. Can you name this 
remarkably agile one-armed out- 

6. In 1941, at 23, Ted Williams batted 
.406. the last hitter to reach the awe- 
some .400 mark. Most baseball affieio- 
nados feel that this will never be done 
again, due to the radical changes in the 
sport (night games, nationwide travel 
schedules, emphasis on relief pitching). 

And in- 
deed, it 
hasn't been 
done in 33 years. 
However, in 1957. a 
a 39-year-old veteran 
hitting at a fantastic clip 
through August and Septi 
ber came within 12 points of the 
magic circle. Who could this du 
able, sharp-eyed pro have been? 

7. In the dramatic last game of the 
1951 playoffs between the then Brook- 

and New York 
Giants, Bobby 
Thomson hit "the 
shot heard round the 
world" against Ralph 
Branca, wresting what had 
seemed like a sure pennant 
from the Dodger's grasp. After- 
wards many sportswriters and fans 
bitterly argued that the Dodger brain 
trust should have intentionally walked 

son to fill 
pitch to an un- 
doubtedly nervous, 
inexperienced ! 
year- old rookie scheduled 
to bat next. Whc 
young outfielder waiting in 
the batter's circle? 

8. When power hitters and their rec- 
ords are discussed, this Ruthian stal- 
wart is seldom mentioned. Yet he holds 
several homerun records plus the over- 
all runs-batted-in record for one 
season, an unbelievable 190 r.b.i.'s. 
Oddly he was even built along the 
blocky lines of the Bambino. Do you 
remember this forgotten slugger who 
plaved in the heartland of America in 
the"20s and early 30s? 

9. In the 1934 All-Star game, the 
National League's starting pitcher, 
Carl Hubbell, faced one of the most 
formidable power lineups ever assem 
bled on a baseball diamond. Excep- 
tionally sharp that day, Hubbell elec- 
trified the sports world by strikinj 

, Babe Ruth, Lou Cehrig, 
Jimmy Foxx, Al Simmons and Joe 
Cronin. But the next man to face him 
rifled a sharp single to left. Who was 
this cool batsman who refused to be 
intimidated by Hubbell? 

10. The team hadn't won a pennant in 
34 years. In a few short seasons the city 
would lose the franchise altogether. 
But in 1948 everything suddenly 
seemed to gel. The team's two best 
pitchers were probably good enough 
that year to have ranked No. 1 on most 
other major league pitching squads. 
Trouble was they didn't have an 
adequate No. 3 man to go with tlje 
golden duo. This gave birth to a 
famous jingle that summed up the 
team's predicament. What was the re- 
frain and who were the pitchers? 

11. Before baseball went "scientific," ' 
pitching was a much more colorful 
part of the game. Such oddities as the 
fork ball, hesitation pitches, the palm 
ball and other freak deliveries tor- 
mented the batters and delighted the 
fans. But the most unorthodox pitch of 
all was developed by a Pittsburgh 
Pirate pitcher who made the league's 
All-Star squad three years in a row. He 
called his tricky pitch a "blooper"; a 
mesmerizing pitch, it was thrown with 
very little velocity on a rising, spinning 
arc climbing as high as 10 feet above 
the batter's head — before it suddenly- 
died and tailed in and down over the 
plate. Can you identify the Buccaneer 
who developed this weird pitch? 

12. He was undoubtedly the oldest 
"rookie" to ever make the big leagues. 
It took him another six years just to 
learn how to throw a decent curve. De- 
spite this, he had developed or mas- 
tered more different types of deliveries 
than most young pitchers have teeth. 
And even with inferior teams behind 
him, he beat the championship teams 
of his time. Can you name this 
amazing athlete whose philosophy was 
as colorful as his pitching prowess? 

(Answers on page 74) 


viGiTfiisiLi comipoynpi 

By Marge Waterfield 

Lydia Pinkham mixed and gave away her "cure for the weakness of females" 
for years; she never dreamed it would eventually make her very famous. 

The recent announcement 
that the great-grandson of 
Lydia Pinkham had sold the 
family business caused many an old 
timer to ask, "Was there really a 
Lydia Pinkham?" 

"Lydia Pinkham Vegetable Com- 
pound" has been one of the most 
popular patent medicines in the 
United States for more than one 
hundred years and was indeed 
invented and marketed by none 
other than Lydia Pinkham herself. 

Although Lydia Estes Pinkham 
mixed and gave away her "cure for 
the weakness of females" to her 
relatives and neighbors for many 
years, she never dreamed that in 
her later years it would make her 
famous throughout the country. 
The first 50 years of her life were 
mostly devoted to the women suf- 
frage movement and fighting for 
almost any good cause that needed 
fighting for. 

Lydia Estes was born February 
9, 1819 in a farm house outside 
Lynn, Massachusetts. Her parents, 
William and Rebecca Estes, were 
well-to-do and she received quite a 
high education for a girl then. 

She was raised to be a fighter for 
"social causes." Her parents had 
both been raised as Quakers and 
were even married in a Quaker 
ceremony but soon found them- 
selves at odds with the sect's strict 
rules governing slavery. 

Although Quakers outwardly 
didn't deny Negroes the right to 
attend their Meetings, they made 

them very uncomfortable and 
refused to seat them with the rest of 
the congregation. They weren't the 
only Quakers upset over the issue, 
Another young girl in the congre- 
gation, one year younger than 
Lydia, was Susan B. Anthqny. 

The issue became more and 
more strained between the Estes 
family and the strict Quakers, 
Finally Rebecca had her fill and 
left the church. The entire family 
followed and with a sigh of relief, 
shed the Quaker clothing. 

All ten children in the Estes 
home thrived on books and people 
expressing radical views on almost 
any given subject. Although her 
mother eventually joined the 
Swedenborgian religion, the chil- 
dren were encouraged to follow 
their own convictions. 

Since Lydia was the youngest 
child, it was no surprise that she 
was a rebel from the beginning. 
She was also greatly influenced by 
a grammar school teacher, Alonzo 
Lewis. He was not only an- advo- 
cate of progressive education but 
also an Abolitionist leader. He 
definitely influenced Lydia's desire 
to be a teacher. 

Although most girls in those 
times received only a meager 
grammar school education, Lydia 
pursued her education to its fullest, 
graduating from Lynn Academy 
with highest honors. This was con- 
sidered the best education obtain- 
able at that time. Her entire family 
was proud of her and encouraged 

her to follow an independent 

career (unheard of for a young girl 
of that time). 

Although she did become a 
teacher, most of her time and 
energy was spent fighting for 
women's rights and anti-slavery 
issues. She thrived on friendships 
made with such notable rebels as 

James N. Buffum, wealthy pro- 
moter of anti-slavery acts, temper- 
ance movements, labor laws and 
women's rights; William Lloyd 
Garrison, Nathaniel Rogers, Wen- 
dell Phillips, Parker Pillsbury, and 
John Greenleaf Whittier. 

Her family entertained these 
leaders in their home and encour- 

Lydia E. Pinkham at twenty-jive. 

aged lively and spirited discussions. 
Thus they were not swayed by 
fancy orators in the lecture hall, 
but by personally debating each 
issue with them. 

Lydia's mother, always the 
crusader, was on the Board of 
Managers of the Lynn Branch of 
the Female Anti-Slavery Society, 

founded by Lucretia Mott in 1836. 
Needless to say, Lydia was an 
active member. 

Another member of the group, 
who later became quite famous, 
was Abby Kelley. She became the 
first woman in Massachusetts to 
address a mixed audience and 
eventually became known nation- 


ch&oT Girls 

Mothers of young girls at this period of life, or the girl herself, are earnestly invltad to write 
Mrs. Pinkham for advice ; all such letters are strictly confidential ; she has guided In a motherly 
way thousands of young women ; and her advice Is freely and cheerfully given. 

School days are danger days for American girls. Often physical collapse follows, and it takes years to recover 
the lost vitality. Sometimes it is never recovered. Perhaps they are not over-careful about keeping their feet 
dry; through carelessness in this respect the monthly sickness is usually rendered very severe. Then begin ail- 
ments which should be removed at once, or they will produce constant suffering. Headache, faintness, slight 
.■ertigo, pains in the back and loins, irregularity, loss of sleep and appetite, a tendency to avoid the society of others, 
are symptoms all indicating that the organs that make her a woman need immediate attention. 

Lydia E:. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound 

has helped many a young girl over this critical period. With it they have gone through their trials with courage and safeity. 
With its proper use the younjr girl is safe from the peculiar dangers of school years and prepared for healthy womanhoc-L 

A Young Chicago Oirl « Studied Too Hard." 

Mrs. Pre bfi *.*:-_! with to thank yon lor the help and benefit 
d through the use of Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable CorapouiH 

Pills. When I was about 11 pears old J miduonlv seemed to lose m; 
tn'idth «id riiallty. Fathni- laid I studied too hard, but the docto 

jhh do*mt>ed anawen . 

Vegetable Compound a 

ded I would give Lydln E. Plnk- 

"Mlu Pratt Unable to Attend School." 


ThoiiBiimls __..... 
Vegetable Compound Id the one mr» rentodr 
fliiB lm PO rt * nt „P''^ 1 2 d _i? * youog giiTi life. 

:. Pinkham's face on i: 

1, and Id no* 

Lo.>* for tbe I 

wide as a dynamic lecturer. 

Living in Lynn at that time was 
an escaped slave who was trying to 
help free his people. He was a self- 
educated man whose great oratory 
powers eventually made him 
welcome throughout the country 
and even in Europe. Naturally, the 
noted Negro, Frederick Douglas, 
was a close friend to the Estes 

Lydia and her sister Gulielma 
supported Douglas in every way, 
often helping to surround him from 
unfriendly crowds outside the 
lecture halls. In 1842, Gulielma 
walked down a street in Lynn 
holding onto the arm of Frederick 
as she would any gentleman of the 
day. The incident caused a heated 
argument between the Estes girls 
and the Methodist minister of the 
church Gulielma had joined. 
When the clergyman admitted that 
he thought Negroes would never go 
to heaven, Gulielma resigned from 
the church. 

Lydia got herself in equal trouble 
by sitting next to Douglas in a 
"white car" on the Eastern 
Railroad. When Douglas was asked 
to sit in the "Ji m Grow" car, he 
announced very courteously that 
he was quite comfortable. The 
conductor was even more infuri- 
ated by the fact that Lydia was 
enjoying a friendly conversation 
with the black man and refused to 
let the conductor past her to reach 
him. Finally with other authorities 
helping, Douglas was forcibly 
thrown off the train. 

As Frederick Douglas widened 
his horizons, he was always a 
welcome visitor to the Estes home 
when he returned to Lynn. 
Ironically, Lydia taught Douglas's 
wife to read. Although the women 
were loyal to his cause, he never 
really supported theirs as far as 
women's rights go. 

Having been denied the right to 
join the all-male Debating Society 
of Lynn, Lydia organized her own, 
called the "Freeman's Institute" in 
1843. Frederick Douglas was 
elected President and she was 
secretary. There were 90 members, 
27 of whom were women. The dis- 
cussions held there were practically 
unheard of, even in Lynn, which 
seemed to have more than its share 
of rebels. 

Not only was Lydia very success- 
ful at her Freeman's Institute 
debates but she also found a 

I Mrs. Weisslitz, Buffalo, N. Y. 
cared of kidney trouble by LydiaE. 
Pinkham's Vegetable Compound. 

Of all the diseases known with which 
tbe female organism is afflicted, kidney 
disease is the most fatal. In fact, un- 
less prompt and correct treatment is ap- 
plied, theweary patient seldom survives. 

Being fully aware of this, Mrs. Pink- 
ham, early in her career, gave careful 
study to «ie subject, and its producing 
her yreat remedy for woman's ill* — 
Lydia E. Pinkham's TeffetaMe 
Compound — made sure that it con- 
tained the correct combination of 
herbs which was certain to control 
that dreaded disease, woman's kidney 
Road What Mrs. Welsslitz Says. 

" Dxa* Mrs. Pinkham: — For two 
years my life was simply a burden, I 
suffered so with female troubles, and 
pains across my back and loins. The 
doctor told me that I had kidney 
troubles and prescribed for me. For 
three months I took his medicine, but 
g rew steadily worse. My husband then 
advised me to try Lydia E. Pink- 
ham's Vegetable Compound, and 
brought home a bottle. It is the great- 
est blessing ever brought to our home. 
Within three months I was a changed 
woman. My pain had disappeared, my 
complexion became clear, my eyes 
bright, and my entire system in good 
shape." — Mrs. Paula WicissLrTz. 176 
Beneea 9t., Buffalo, N.Y. — taooo forfeit 
If original of abovo letW craving ganulnemts cannot 

husband there, Isaac Pinkham, So 
at the age of 24, the tall, attractive 
red-haired crusader became Lydia 
E. Pinkham. 

The short plump widower was 
not new to the radical movements 
in which Lydia engaged. He also 
came from an old New England 
family of fighters for "social 
causes." Pinkham men were known 
to be "hard-headed" but men of 
few words. This possibly made for 
a good marriage between' Isaac and 
Lydia, as she never seemed to be 
lost for words. 

Although the Pinkhams had a 

very happy marriage, and contin- 
ued active in one cause after 
another, they never quite pros- 
pered financially. Isaac ventured 
into many businesses but the 
fortune he pursued always seemed 
just beyond his grasp. It seemed 
that for the first 30 years of their 
marriage they lived on loans and 
high hopes. They were blessed with 
four children; Charles, William, 
Daniel, and Aroline, and always 
were a close family. Being true to 
her nature, Lydia encouraged her 
children to excell in their educa- 
tion, especially public speaking. 

When the children were older 
Lvdia became somewhat of a 

Mrs. Haskell, Worthy Vice- 
Templar, Independent Order 
Good Templars, of Silver Lake, 
Mass., tells of her cure by the 
use of Lydia E. Pinkham's Vege- 
table Compound. 

" DeabMbs. Pinkham; — Fouryears 
ago I was nearly dead with inflamma- 
tion and ulceration. I endured daily 
untold agony, and life was a burden 
to me. I had used medicines and 
washes internally and externally until 
I made up my mind that there was no 
relief for me. Calling at the home of 
a friend. I noticed a bottle of Lydia 
E. Pinkham's Vegetable Cora- 
pound. My friend endorsed it highly, 
and I decided to give it a trial to see if 
it would help me. It took patience 
and perseverence for I was in bad con- 
dition, and I used Lydia E. Pink- 
ham's Vegetable Compound for 
nearly five months before I was cured, 
but what a change, from despair to 
happiness, from misery to the delight- 
ful exhilarating feeling health always 
brings. I would not change back for 
a thousand dollars, and your Vegetable 
Compound is a grand medicine. 

"I wish every sick woman would 
try it and be convinced." — Mrs. Ida 
Haskell, Silver Lake, Mass. Worthy 
Vice Templar. Independent Order of 
Good Templars. —J600O forfeit If original 
of ibo-ie Ictttr craving genuineness cannot 6t art- 

After 100 years, Lydia's face remains on every box of Vegetable Compound, 
and she still promises to plant "the fresh roses of life" on milady's cheeks. 

volunteer nurse in her neighbor- 
hood. Her calmness in emergencies, 
along with her good common 
sense, seemed to influence her 
patients. I suppose it seemed only 
natural that eventually she even 
supplied her own home remedies. 
Many had been handed down 
through her family but many she 
found in medical books. 

The lack of cleanliness and a 
slow acceptance of chloroform as 
an anesthetic in childbirth made 
women skeptical of help by male 
physicians. Before long Lydia was 
endorsing the plea of Dr. Oliver 
Wendell Holmes, who advised that 
washing the hands with strong 
antiseptic before delivering a baby 
could save many mothers from 
dying of infection or childbed fever 
as it was called. Before long, Lydia 
was also actively advocating ac- 
ceptance of women at Harvard 
Medical School. She believed, 
"Only a woman can understand a 
woman's ills." 

Eventually, she also became an 
enthusiast of a medical reform 
group called "American Eclectics." 
The Eclectics stressed the thera- 
peutic value of plants and herbs. 
This was not a new concept to 
Lydia, as in her youth her mother 
had always used thyme, lavender, 
boneset tea, mullein, tansey, and 
wild indigo as medicine. 

Lydia read all she could on 
Eclectic Medicine and found her 
favorite work to be "The American 
Dispensatory." This possibly could 
be marked as the turning point in 
her life, for in this volume she 
found a formula, which she 
changed slightly, that eventually 
became her famed "Vegetable 
Compound." It was considered an 
"old squaw remedy" for women's 

She mixed some of the concoc- 
tion and dispensed it in her nursing 
ventures. Soon friends and neigh- 
bors were talking about the help 
they had received from monthly 
cramps and the distresses of 
menopause by taking Lydia's tonic. 
It wasn't long before strangers 
were knocking at her door asking 
for a bottle of her compound. For a 
while, she happily gave it away. 


Fullness of Health Makes Sweet Dispositions and Happy Homes. 



Woman's greatest gift is the power to inspire' admiration, respect and love. 
There is a beauty in health which is more attractive to men than 
; regularity of feature. 
To be a successful wife, to retain the love and 
admiration of her husband, should be a woman's 
nstant study- At the first indication of ill 
health, painful menses, pains in the side, 
| headache or backache, secure Lydia E. 
Piukham's Vegetable Compound, and 
1 begin its use. This truly wonderful 
miedy is the safeguard of women's 
ealth. ■ ^ 

Mrs. MABEL Smith, 345 Central Ave., 
jersey City Heights, N. J., writes : 

"Dear Mrs. PrNKHAM :— I can hardly 
find words with which to thank you for 
what your wonderful remedy has done 
for me. Without it I would by this time 
have been dead* or worse, insane ; for 
when I started to take Lydia E. Pinkham's 
Vegetable Compound I was in a terrible state. I 
think it would be impossible forme to tell all I suffered. 
Every part of my body seemed to pain some way. The pain in my back and 
head was terrible. I was nervous, had hysterics and fainting spells. My 
case was one that was given up by two of the best doctors in Brooklyn: I 
had given up myself; as I had tried so many things, I believed nothing would 
ever do me any good. But, thanks to your medicine, I am now well and 
strong; in fact, another person entirely." 

If you are puzzled about yourself, write freely and fully to Mrs. Pink- 
hani, at Lynn, Mass., and secure the advice which she offers free of charge to 
all women. This is the advice that has brought sunshine. into many homes 
which nervousness and irritability bad nearly wrecked. 

Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound ; a Woman's Remedy for Woman's His. 

Then in 1873 the family faced 
the worst crisis of their lives. The 
Panic of "73 completely wiped out 
Isaac's real estate business. Broken 
in spirit, Isaac felt he could not 
start all over again at the age of 60. 
The rest of the family however, did 
not let the depression hold them 
down for long. 

They held a family conference 
and found the only real asset they 
had was Lydia's medicine for 
female complaints. They decided 
to call it simply, "Lydia E. Pink- 
ham Vegetable Compound," and 
ran the business out of the family 

home. In the usual Pinkham 
tradition, they threw themselves 
into the venture wholeheartedly. 
They started selling the remedy at 
a rate of 5 bottles for $6.00 locally. 
The sons passed out handbills 
around Lynn and neighboring 
communities. It wasn't long before 
orders started pouring in. 

Besides making the medicine in 
the basement kitchen and bottling 
it herself, Lydia also wrote a four- 
page booklet called, "Guide for 
Women." It wasn't unusual for her 
boys to deliver some 3,500 guides 
{Continued on page 73) 



By Penny Nicolai 

With the advent of the war, Walt and Mickey stopped making films and 
worked on the war effort ; Mickey's name was the password on D-Day. 

The year 1927 conjures up 
many memories of news 
events — Civil War flaring up 
in China, the execution of Ruth 
Brown Snyder and Henry Judd 
Grey for the murder of her hus- 
band, Lindbergh's famous flight to 
Paris, Tunney winning a second 
decision over Dempsey without 
benefit of a long count, and the 
creation of Walt Disney's famous 
character— MICKEY MOUSE. 

Conceived on a train, Mickey 
Mouse has now reigned as the most 
familiar personality on earth for 
almost forty-six years. And, what 
years those have been for both 
Walt and Mickey. 

Walt Disney came to California 
in 1923, the proud possessor of a 
few drawing materials, a small 
amount of cash, a well-worn suit 
and a completed fairy tale anima- 
tion subject. Joining forces with his 
brother, Roy, they pooled their 
respective fortunes, $40 and $250, 
scraped up an additional $500 and 
set up shop in their uncle's garage. 

It wasn't long before they were 
doing animated featurettes and 
were able to expand their 
operation into the rear of a Holly- 
wood real-estate office. There 
things ran smoothly until 1927 — 
•when disaster struck. 

Deciding that it was time to 
negotiate a new contract and some 
additional money to improve the 
featurettes of Oswald the Rabbit, 
Walt and his wife took a trip back 
East to handle negotiations. How- 




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"Steamboat Willie" was to be Disney's final try in a 
cartoon, and he sank everything he had in it. 

ation; it was a sound 

ever, not only did the backers 
decline more money, but they took 
control of Oswald and stole half of 
Disney's animators as well. 

Feeling slightly depressed, but 
by no means beaten, Disney and 
his wife packed their bags and 
boarded the train for the long ride 
home. The answer was really quite 
simple — a new cartoon character — 
but what? Dogs, cats, rabbits and 
other conventional animals were 
old hat. In order to really make it, 
the character must be something 
new. Then it struck him — a mouse. 

And he couldn't have been more on 

From his first hit, Mickey was a 
character everybody loved. Born 
out of the depression, he taught 
people to laugh at themselves. He 
had big dreams and his dreams 
became universal. 

As soon as the train arrived, 
Walt raced to the studio to work on 
the first silent Mickey cartoon, 
"Plane Crazy," When it didn't 
meet with much enthusiasm, he 
began another, "Gallopin 
Gaucho." And when no-one 


^W*'*\ : " ' " ' ^'v i 9HHK 

Clockwise from top left. This is the garage where Disney began his cartooning career in 1923. In a little over 1 7 years, the 
Disney complex had grown to the size seen above; this photo was taken in 1940. Below is a scene from the first silent Mickey 
cartoon, "Plane Crazy. " It didn 't meet with much enthusiasm, but undaunted, he began another: "Gallopin Gaucho. " 

Touchdown Mickey 

This action-filled 1932 Mickey Mouse cartoon opens as the big game between 
Mickey's Manglers and the Alley Cats is in the final quarter with Mickey's 
team losing, 82-96. 

Mickey runs steadily toward the goal, easily avoiding Alley Cat blocking. 
The fans go wild at the touchdown. Black ducks in the "roosting" section turn 
to spell "M-I-C-K-E-Y" using their white tails instead of cards. 

The ball now goes to the Alley Cats, one of whom ties together the tails of 
two teammates. They charge down the grid, tripping the Manglers. Pluto, the 
water dog, pulls a waterbarrel cart onto the field, unnoticed. Mickey retrieves 
the ball in a fumble. Pluto tries to get out of his way, but Mickey is tackled and 
lands in the barrel, breaking it, Hero Mickey "surfs" on a barrel slat to a 
touchdown which ties the score. 

M ickey holds the ball for his placekicker, whose shoe comes off with the kick 
and lands on Mickey's head. Since he can't see, Mickey runs for the wrong goal 
and hits the Alley Cat's post. Realizing what has happened, Mickey takes off 
the other way. One of the Manglers lies on his side and rolls down the field in 
front of him, squashing the Alley Cats. Mickey also gets caught under the 
"steamroller," and is smashed flat. A dachshund retrieves Mickey's fumble for 
the Manglers, 

Mickey revives and takes the ball back in the final second of the game. As he 
nears the goal, the Alley Cats pile on. The gun fires, the game is over. Did he 
make it? The players get up and Mickey, embedded in the turf, holds the ball 
just over the line. Victory! 

Minnie rushes from the grandstand and as they are carried off the field atop 
the goalpoast, a battered and bruised Mickey kisses his girlfriend. 

wanted to buy it, he decided on 
one final try, a sound cartoon: 
"Steamboat Willie." 

Since talkies had just begun, 
Walt sank everything into this one 
last chance. It was all or nothing. 
And it was ALL. While other stars 
found their careers wiped out 
overnight, Mickey Mouse found his 
career on a steady climb uphill. 

At first he only squeaked, or 
rather Walt Disney squeaked for 
him. Then in 1929, his first chance 
to really speak came and he said 
"Hot Dog" in the "Karnival Kid." 
From that moment on, Mickey was 
the idol of millions. In fact, his 
cartoons became so popular that 
people would ask the ticket taker at 
the theatre if they were running a 
Mickey before purchasing admis- 
sion. Theatres began displaying 
posters that read "Mickey Mouse 
Playing Today" and it wasn't un- 
common for people to sit through a 
feature twice to see Mickey again. 

As Mickey's success grew, so did 
Disney's list of characters. Minnie 
had been around since the 
beginning, and by 1934, there was 
a whole gang including Pluto and 

Mickey's fame soon became 
world-wide. He was given a place 
in the Encyclopedia Brittanica. 
One hour shows were held in 
Carnegie Hall and at the Tatler in 

In order to really make it, Walt Disney had to have a character that was really 
new; then it struck him — a mouse. He couldn't have been more right. 

London. Disney was hailed as the 
genius of the talkies, just as Charlie 
Chaplin had been hailed as the 
genius of the silents. In 1940 
Mickey's career peaked with 
Fantasia, claimed by New York 
critics as Best Picture of the Year. 
In short, Mickey received more 
awards and honors than any other 
star in history, not to mention the 
much coveted Academy Award. It 
was a far cry from the garage. 

A football hero, a pilot, a giant 
killer, an inventor, a detective, no 
character was out of reach for 
Mickey. Along with Minnie, 
Mickey became the leading charac- 
ter in a huge empire. Mickey 
Mouse Clubs with a secret hand- 
shake, a song, and special greeting 
sprang up along with merchandis- 
ing of watches, comic books, and 
other products. 

With the advent of the war, 
Walt and Mickey stopped making 
films and worked on the war 
effort. Mickey appeared on num- 
erous insignia and posters, he 
urged people to buy war bonds, 
and incredibly, his name was- the 

Mickey, armed with a swordfish, duels 
Pegleg Pete in "Shanghaied, " 1934. 
(re-released. Buena Vista.) 

The Mail Pilot 

Mail Pilot Mickey prepares to take off with precious cargo in this 1933 
Mickey Mouse short. After his plane belches and wheezes several times, it 
finally lifts into the air with grace. A picture of Minnie framed inside a 
horseshoe' ejects from the control panel in front of Mickey. He kisses the 
picture and puts it back. In a dark rainstorm, Mickey's goggles are equipped 
with windshield wipers which whisk away the rain. In cold climates, snow 
gathers on the plane and on Mickey as he climbs up and down to avoid 
mountain tops. Once in warmer weather, the plane shakes off the snow, and 
the sun sings along with the theme, "For the mail must go through." 

Pegleg Pete, a mail bandit whose Wanted poster was on display at the 
airport, confronts Mickey from behind a cloud. Even his plane looks sinister 
with a scowl and black bat wings. Pete's machine gun trims Mickey's wings 
and propellors, and Mickey heads into a crash dive, leveling out with the help 
of a rooftop or two and finally landing on the ground. A circular laundry rack 
provides a temporary propellor to get him airborne again but it soon gives out. 
Mickey then uses a windmill rotor to keep him going. Black Pete shoots a 
harpoon into the rear of Mickey's plane and an in-flight tug-of-war takes 
place, with Mickey losing. 

Minnie's picture pops out of the panel just in time., Mickey gets 
renewed strength and pulls Pete along a rough trail, through a church belfry 
and cactus fields. Mickey is the hero of the day when he lands with bandit Pete 
in tow, and Minnie rushes to kiss him as the airport crew sings, "Through 
snow, sleet and rain and hail, a pilot never fails." 

Above from left. A production staff meeting in the Disney studios. Roy and Walt (on left) pose with their honorable mention 
from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences for "Flowers and Trees" in 1932. In the scene at right, the dancing 
animators are working out poses for Mickey <b- Minnie. 

The evolution of Mickey Mouse: The changes in the way Mickey Mouse has been drawn through the years is clearly evident in 
this composite drawing. From left to right: Mickey as he appeared in his first public appearance in "Steamboat Willie" in 
1928; Mickey in the I930's; as the Sorcerer's Apprentice in "Fantasia," often referred to as the Golden Age Mickey ; in his 
dapper outfit of the 1940's; in "Fun and Fancy Free" in 1947, and his final appearance in the 1950's, which is the way he is still 
represented today. 

Mickey's Good Deed 

When the scene opens on this 1932 Walt Disney cartoon classic, snow is 
falling gently and Mickey Mouse is playing a cello at a busy street corner while 
his dog Pluto waits patiently by a small tin collection cup. When Mickey and 
Pluto check their income, they find only nuts and bolts and bent nails have 
been left as a reward for their services. 

Mickey starts playing again, this time near a wealthy home. Inside, a 
screaming and kicking child refuses fancy toys to the dismay of his father and 
the butler. He looks outside, hearing Mickey's music, and decides he wants the 
doggie. Hoping to quiet the boy, the father sends the butler to buy Pluto. 
Mickey and Pluto take off. The pursuing butler makes an offer, but Mickey 
says, "1 won't sell him, mister. He's my pal." Mickey falls on the ice, and his 
cello sails across the sidewalk and into the street, where it is smashed by a 
passing horsedrawn sleigh. 

Later, Mickey and Pluto wander up to the window of a rundown shack. 
Inside, a woman in a ratty shawl is crying. She can't afford presents for her 
poor, fatherless children. Mickey relents and sells Pluto to the rich family for 
money to help the poor. Dressed as Santa Claus, Mickey sneaks back to the 
shack and leaves gifts. t 

Pluto, with a turkey tied to his tail, tries to escape from the boy, who is 
wrecking his father's house. The enraged father finally orders the butler to get 
rid of the dog and gives his son a long-needed spanking. 

Pluto finds Mickey roasting a single wiener over a fire. Next to him is a 
snowman in Pluto's image. As Mickey sighs, Pluto bursts forth from the 
snowman, and they are happily reunited. They cook the turkey and have a 
Merry Christmas feast after all!!! 

As Mickey's success grew, so did the list 
of characters. Donald Duck and a 
whole gang were around by 1934. 

password of the allied forces on 

Through the 40s and early 50s, 
Mickey began to make less and less 
cartoons. Due to his evolving into a 
symbol of everything, Disney 
found it hard to create story 
situations. If he lost his temper or 
did anything sneaky, fans would 
write in insisting that Mickey just 
wouldn't do that. 

Now that Mickey has reached 
middle age, his popularity is as 
strong as ever. Early shorts are 
being re-released due to increasing 
demand and he still satirizes our 
foibles and teaches us to laugh at 

Walt Disney once said, as he 
surveyed Disneyland on a TV 
show, "I hope we never lose sight' 
of one fact. . .that this was all 
started by a mouse." And with the 
love that everyone has for Mickey, 
I am sure it will BH 

never be forgotten. j^ 

By Jean Guck 

During the early 60s, it seemed as if the goal of the new Pop Art movement was 
"A Soup Can In Every Museum And A Giant Hamburger In Every Gallery." 

Until the early 60s, the arti- 
facts of our so-called mass 
culture were never taken 
seriously by social and cultural 
critics; more often than not, these 
artifacts were either routinely 
ignored or simply dismissed as fads 
or. at most, just another example of 
the mindless fluff ground out to 
please the somewhat limited intel- 
ligence of the Great Unwashed, 
who presumably inhabited that 
Vast Wasteland that lay between 
the East and West Coasts of Amer- 
ica. And perhaps our esteemed 
literati would still be content to 
leave the details of everyday 
images to the retentive brain cells 
of trivia buffs had not an icono- 
clastic group of artists sought to 
legitimize these details on canvas. 

Claes Oldenburg's "Three-Way Plug- 
Scale B" is a statement on America's 
penchant for bigness. Its soft texture is 
Oldenburg's attempt to deflate that 

Enter Pop Art, whose goal at the 
time seemed to be "A Soup Can In 
Every Museum And A Giant Ham- 
burger In Every Gallery." Cultur- 
ally, it was the official beginning of 
the Shocking 60s. 

The first examples of Pop Art 
were not very well-received by 
many critics. Some dismissed it as a 
fad or a joke; others considered it 
an affront to serious art. (But then 
very few new movements gain in- 
stant acceptance; after all, Picasso 
'and Van Gogh were also snubbed 
by other critics in other times, so 
what did it matter what they said?) 
People were buying Pop, some 
critics reversed their earlier opin- 
ions of it, and by 1964, nearly 
every New York art gallery worth 
its East Side address was snapping, 
crackling and popping with this 
new art form . 

Among the first, and certainly 
the best known of this innovative 
crew was Andy Warhol, whose 
gargantuan paintings of Camp- 

bell's Soup cans, and silk screens of 
contemporary godesses, such as 
Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor 
and Jackie Kennedy are famous 
throughout the world. "He paints 
the gamy glamor of mass society 
with the lobotomized glee that 
characterizes the cooled-off gen- 
eration," wrote Newsweek, de- 
scribing his paintings. Warhol 
started out as a commercial artist, 
which might, in part, explain his 
fascination with soup cans. In 
1957, he won the Art Directors' 
Club Medal for his ad that featured 
a gigantic shoe. He felt that 
"Everybody should be a machine 
. .everybody should be like every- 
body. That seems to be what is 
happening now." Although that 
remark seems rather inconsistent 
with one so consistently avant- 
garde, it could be taken to mean 
that there is a certain amount of 
loneliness, of alienation, in trying to 
be different. Or perhaps it could be 
taken as an ironic comment on the 


logical conclusions of total con- 
formity. But in an interview for Art 
News of November, 1963, Warhol 
did not consider his earlier 
commercial art as "mechanical" as 
his "legitimate" art. "I was getting 
paid for it and did anything they 
told me to do. If they told me to 
draw a shoe, I'd do it, and if they 
told me to correct it, I would ... I'd 
have to invent and now I don't; 
after all that 'correction,' those 
commercial drawings would have 
feelings, they would have a style. 
The attitude of those who hired me 
had feeling or something to it ; they 
knew what they wanted, they 
insisted; sometimes they got very 
emotional. The process of doing 
work in commercial art was 
machine-like, but the attitude had 
feeling to it." When asked why he 
started painting soup cans, Warhol 
replied, "I used to have the same 
soup lunch every day for twenty 
years. So I painted soup cans." 
Although his reproduction of soup 
cans and similar objects can be 
traced to the serial paintings of 
earlier artists such as Monet, his 
choice of object has a more con- 
temporary meaning. One of the 
basic tenets of Pop Art is that any 
object, no matter how mundane or 
commonplace, can be considered 
art in certain perspectives. After 
all, who is to say what is art and 
what is not? It can also be seen as a 
comment on the American habit of 
mass-producing nearly everything 
in sight until one is so saturated 
with it that what was once original 
becomes trite in a matter of 
months. This was borne out when, 
shortly after Warhol's soup cans 
became famous, the novelty 
market was deluged with a 
plethora of posters, pillows, coffee 
mugs and countless other items 
sporting the Campbell's logo. 

Similarly, Warhol's blown-up 
silk-screen paintings of such early 
60s superstars as Marilyn Monroe, 
Liz Taylor and Jackie Kennedy 
also say something about the 
American tendency of hero (or, in 
this case, heroine) worship. These 
blow-ups are larger than life itself; 
which is exactly the way the public 
views its celebrities. There is no 
longer any differentiation between 
the real person and the idealized 
public image; art and reality 
become confused, or blend them- 
selves into one. This ideal is also 
sought after as the "perfect image" 


At first glance, Robert Rauschenberg's "First Landing Jump" seems like a collec- 
tion of old junk, but it 's really a "tribute" to America's god, the auto, 

by millions; in those definitely 
pre-Womens Lib days, it seemed as 
if every woman in America wanted 
to look like Marilyn, Liz or Jackie. 
Warhol's "Death" series, de- 
picts grisly car wrecks, electric 
chairs, people committing suicide 
and other ways of dying. Death, 
particularly violent death, is per- 
vasive throughout our culture. A 
week doesn't go by when you don't 
see newspaper headlines urging 
you to read about the latest grue- 
some series of murders, so much so 
that one more violent death doesn't 
really matter. Warhol, in the Art 
News interview says that he got the 
idea for the Death series from a 
newspaper headline about a plane 
crash where 129 people were 
killed. "It was Christmas or Labor 
Day — a holiday — and every time 
you turned on the radio, they said 
something like '4 million are going 
to die.' That started it. But when 

you see a gruesome picture over 
and over again, it doesn't really 
have any effect." 

Another Pop artist, but a bit 
more upbeat,' was Roy Lichten- 
stein, who is known primarily for 
his blown-up comic strip panels. In 
an interview for Art News of 
November 1963, Lichtenstein sees 
his art in terms of the capitalistic 
and industrial society of contem- 
porary Western culture. "I think 
. . .that it's industrial, it's what all 
the world will become." Until 
recently, comic strips were never 
seriously considered to have any 
true artistic merit, other than 
illustrating rather simple-minded 
stories. Comic art had no per- 
manent value, a characteristic 
which, to Lichtenstein, was a 
perfect vehicle for Pop Art. It "has 
very immediate and of-the-moment 
meanings. . .and Pop takes ad- 
vantage of this 'meaning,' which is 

When asked why he started painting soup cans, Warhol replied, "I used to 
have the same soup lunch every day for twenty years. So I painted soup cans." 

not supposed to last . . . . " And that 
— the impermanence, the built-in 
obsolescence of our culture and 
products, is what Pop Art purports 
to be about. 

Lichtenstein has also painted a 
number of highly stylized, comic- 
strip-like landscapes, sunsets and 
valleys, looking more like a very 
pleasant cartoon than real life. 
"The sunset is banal and senti- 
mental," said Lichtenstein in a 
Newsweek article of November 9, 
1964. "But it's a certain kind of 
banal— like life and one's normal 
responses to it." It is merely a 
preparation for a technology-con- 
trolled future. But one also gets the 

Rauschenberg's "Fiush"isa montage of 
paintings and a shot oj a rocket being 
fired (below). At right is another of 
Oldenburg's outsize deflated appli- 
ances, this time a 64-inch vacuum 

feeling that Pop Art, despite its 
surface celebration of banality, did 
try to jolt peoples' sensibilities. "It 
was hard to get a painting that was 
despicable enough so that no one 
would hang it — everybody was 
hanging everything. It was almost 
acceptable to hang a dripping 
paint rag, everybody was accus- 
tomed to this. The one thing every- 
one hated was commercial art ; 
apparently they didn't hate that 
enough either," says Lichtenstein 
in the Art News interview. 

Claes Oldenburg's works use 
bigness as a theme. His Pop sculp- 
tures of outsize hamburgers, 
French fries, typewriters, vacuum 
cleaners, and other articles of 
contemporary Americana are lar- 
ger than life, so large in fact, that 
they overwhelm and dwarf the 
onlooker. This concern with size is 
not so much a fascination with 
bigness as it is a statement against 

The paintings shown here are Warhol's 
most famous. At left are two silk 
screens of Marilyn Monroe and Eliz- 
abeth Taylor. Above, of course, are 
200 of his renowned Campbell's cans. 

it. Although the appliances and 
artifacts that Oldenburg sculpts are 
monumental in size, they are made 
of a combination of vinyl, kapok, 
cloth and plexiglass tKat give them 
a soft, semi-deflated appearance so 
that they can be molded and poked 
into an infinite number of distorted 
shapes and caricatures of them- 

selves. As an article by Max Kolzoff 
in the April 27, 1964 issue of The 
Nation points out, "Though of 
thoroughly huge dimensions, this 
art is anti-monumental, not only in 
its mockery of the American 
penchant for size, but because 
now, unlike his previous plasters, 
the air has been let out of these 
grandiose but pathetic concoctions. 
Or rather toys. For, if parents buy 
miniaturized versions of grown-up 
objects for their children, Olden- 
burg makes amplified effigies — 
superficially far less sophisticated— 
of those same objects for his spec- 

tators." Thus, Oldenburg's over- 
blown objects serve as a modern- 
day art version of the Ozymandas 
of Shelley's poem — so-called monu- 
ments to a so-called great culture 
now transformed into mockeries of 
themselves. When seen as a group 
at a gallery or exhibition, these 
giant renditions give one the 
impression of walking through 
some nightmarish, futuristic mu- 
seum of 60s America. 

There were other Pop artists on 
the scene at that time as well, 
notably Robert Rauschenburg, 
Robert Indiana and Jim Dine, to 

name a few. Rut Warhol, Lichten- 
stein and Oldenburg were the best 
known of the genre and the most 
easily recognizable by the Amer- 
ican public. Although, at the time, 
they shocked our sensibilities with 
their seeming glorification of the 
commercial aspects of American 
culture, little did we know that this 
was to be only the first shock wave 
of what was to come. By the end of 
the 60s what with the cultural, 
social and political upheavals that 
characterized that decade, the Pop 
Art phenomenon seems quite 
innocuous in retrospect. ri 


By Michael Carmack 

Considered one of the greatest influences on country music, Williams is 
credited with bringing it out of the backwoods and onto pop music charts. 

As soon as he got up to the mike, 

/% leaned over and yodeled, "I 

-^ *■ got a feelin' called the blu- 

OO-oo-OO-oo-ues/ Since my baby 

said goodbye," he was on his way. 

The audience went wild. Cus- 
tomarily, at the Grand Ole Opry, 
one encore meant something, but 
Williams was called back for six — 
an unprecedented response. 

Perhaps it was his youth qnd his frail, nasal style that made him so appealin 
popular on the country dance circuit. 

It was a night in 1949 when he 
stood for the first time on the Opry 
stage, and from that night on Hank 
Williams was headed rapidly and 
dizzily upward toward the heights 
of fame. But his life was to be 
tragically short. Only four years 
later, on New Years Day, 1953, his 
17 year old chauffeur was to reach 
into the back seat to awaken the 
sleeping Williams and discover that 
the country troubadour was dead. 
For those four years his world 
was confusion — money, success 
and a deep sense of loneliness. 

Hank Williams is Still with us— 
at least in memory. Considered one 
of the greatest influences on 
country music, he is credited with 
revitalizing the field. He brought it 
out of the Southern backwoods and 
placed country on the pop charts. 
With the appearance of Jimmy 
Rodgers in the 20s, country had 
finally developed a cohesive image, 
but it was Williams who wrote 
songs in such a style as to influence, 
not only other country performers 
and writers, but also many pop- 
stars who re-recorded such songs as 
"I'm so lonesome I could cry" and 
sold them to a larger audience. 

Hiram (Hank) Williams was 
born September 17, 1923 in a log 
cabin outside Georgiana, Alabama. 
His mother Lilly was a strong 
woman — devoted, concerned, but 
also domineering. When her son 
started playing hoedowns and 
barbecues, she would be the ticket 
seller and she made sure everyone 

paid— including relatives. His 
father Lon was ineffectual in 
family matters, and when not 
living in a veteran's hospital (where 
he resided for a number of years) 
he would occasionally come in 
contact with his son. 

There is some confusion about 
Williams' early years and his first 
attempts at a music career but it 
appears that he received his first 
real music lesson from a black 
street singer named Tee-tot. A 
couple of times a week, Tee-tot 
would hitchhike or grab a ride on 
the L&N line heading for Geor- 
giana or occasionally go on to 
Garland. If he didn't already have 
an engagement at a black dance or 
church affair, he'd walk the side- 
walks in the near-by towns, trying 
to attract a few people and 
hopefully a few dimes. 

Tee-tot attracted a following of 
young boys — one of whom was 
Williams, and when the Williams 
family moved to Greenville (a 
town frequented by Tee-tot) in 
1935, young Hank became very 
friendly with the street singer. The 
older man helped the boy develop 
a blues style and put "soul" into his 
singing. In perspective and style, 
Williams was closer akin to Ray 
Charles than he was to the run-of- 
the-mill country singer of his day. 

In 1937, the Williams' family 
moved again. This time to Mont- 
gomery where Hank thought he 
might try his luck on amateur night 
at the Empire Theater. With 
cowboy boots and cowboy hat and 
a Gibson sunburst guitar, Hank 
sang his own "WPA Blues." It was 
good enough to win him first prize 
and $15.00 which he promptly 
spent on his friends, a trait he was 
to keep throughout his life. 

Williams also auditioned for 
radio station WSFA where he got 
his own twice-weekly, 15 minute 
spot. He was billed as "The Singing 
Kid." By this time he was definitely 
set on a musical career, and people 
were taking notice of the lean, 
easy-going country boy. 

Although the songs he wrote 
were still fairly amateurish, there 
was a feeling about them, and him, 
which was appealing. Perhaps it 
was his youth, and the frail, nasal 
song style he affected that made 
him so popular on the dance 
circuit. But whatever it was, his 
growing number of fans seemed to 
identify with him ; a necessary 

characteristic for a popular per- 
former. Being a good old country 
boy from Georgiana was like 
having a hook to hang a hat on and 
to say that Hank Williams was from 
the backwoods was like saying to 
his fans, "he's one of us. 

Soon Williams got together with 
some other performers and, calling 
themselves The Drifting Cowboys, 
they toured the backroads of 
Alabama. Hank knew, though, 
that fame and fortune wasn't likely 
to come in the cotton towns, The 
big time was the Grand Ole Opry 
in Nashville, Tennessee. But he had 
to take a couple more steps before 

he was ready for the Opry. The 
first was to meet Audrey Shepherd, 
a woman who would influence his 
life even more than his mother 
had, and the second was to become 
a regular on Shreveport's "Louisi- 
ana Hayride." 

Audrey and booze came into 
Hank's life about the same time. 
Both would, seemingly, have the 
same effect. Audrey was from 
Enon, 50 miles southeast of Mont- 
gomery. She had already been 
married and divorced and had a 
daughter, Lucrecia. They met and 
had a stormy courtship, and 
eventually married. She ended up 

singing with the Drifting Cowboys, 
although vocally she didn't add 
much to the group. 

Their life together was a con- 
stant quarrel; that and a painful 
back condition (caused by a fall 
from a horse) drove Hank to liquor 
and drugs. The constant traveling 
and singing in honkey-tonks didn't 
help to keep him away from the 
bottle either. 

When he became a regular on 
the "Hayride," he rapidly made a 
name for himself, but at the same 
time he was acquiring a reputation 
.as a heavy drinker. The latter was 
bad news for achieving his ambi- 
tion to appear on the Opry stage, 
for although all the Opry stars per- 
formed during the week at dances 
where drinking was a fact of life 
(normally, a bottle was hidden 
under a car seat or back in the 
bushes somewhere for the thirsty in 
the audiences), during the Opry's 
weekend shows, even the word 
liquor on stage was taboo. The 
Opry was promoted as a whole- 
some, family-oriented show, and 
was sponsored by an insurance 
company which officially frowned 
on drinking. 

Williams was becoming too 
popular for the Opry to ignore, 
especially with his recent hit of 
"Lovesick Blues" climbing the 
charts, so he was given a tryout to 
see if he could make it as a regular. 
(Hank had not written "Lovesick" 
but he did add his own special 
touch and turned it into the biggest 
selling country song of all time.) If 
the Opry could not ignore him 
before his first appearance on the 
Nashville stage, they certainly 
couldn't ignore him after. 

The notices he received were 
not always flattering. Once asked 
why he wrote so many sad songs, 
Hank replied, "I guess I'm Just a 
sadist;" His words were duly 
reported. But being brought up in 
an environment which had not 
encouraged formal education, such 
remarks should not have been 
surprising. It was only the begin- 
ning of the laughter which was to 
be enjoyed at Williams' expense. 

During the early 50s, he was 
selling like no one else. "Your 
Cheatin' Heart," "Hey Good 
Lookin'," "I'm So Lonesome I 
Could Cry," "Cold, Cold Heart" 
and "Jambalaya" were only a few 
of the songs which reached the top 
of the charts. His personal appear- 

ances were also sellouts and he 
became the hottest" thing in show 
business. ' 

In 1951 on the Hadacol Caravan 
(which was the name of a health 
potion — but actually a legal way 
for the potion's owner to sell liquor 
in the "dry" South), Williams was 
added to a star list which included 
Bob Hope, Milton Berle, Jack 
Benny, Jimmy Durante and former 
boxing champ Jack Dempsey. It 
was the type of roadshow rarely 
seen today. 

In Louisville, Hope was to close 
the show with Williams preceding 
him. Williams ended his spot with 
"Lovesick Blues" which sent the 
audience wild — stomping their 
feet, screaming, jumping on their 

He finally received the love and devo- 
tion he had so wanted all his life. 

chairs. When the MC tried to 
introduce Hope, he was drowned 
by the screams. Hope finally 
walked on stage- As the noise sub- 
sided, he said, "Hello folks, this is 
Hank Hope," which started the 
crowd again. 

But tours wouldn't go so well for 
the country star after that. Bad 
bouts with the bottle and hang- 
overs were becoming more fre- 
quent. Even on stage, it was a 
rarity to see him sober — and in 
some cases he didn't make it at all 
while others, including his protege 
Ray Price, would fill in. 

One time in Dallas, Williams did 
make it, but four hours late. It was 
12 : 30 a.m. when, after being 
sobered for hours, he walked on 

stage to a full house which roared 
its approval. But during his decline 
as a star, many came just to see if 
he'd make it, or if he did, how 
drunk he'd be. It was more of a 
joke than an honor to buy a Hank 
Williams ticket . 

He was also being heckled a lot 
on stage. A line he often used to put 
the heckler in his place was, 
"would some of you friends (point- 
ing out into the audience in the 
direction of the heckler), get a 
shovel and try to cover that up?" 

Once, when so drunk he fell off 
the stage, he staggered back up, 
and said to the laughing audience, 
"Don't give me any of that crap. 
I'm gonna finish this song." He was 
being mocked, but he didn't realize 
the extent of his ridicule. 

Money was being spent faster 
than it came in. Shooting incidents, 
and falling asleep in hotel rooms 
with lit cigarettes were upsetting 
his managers. And finally, the 
Grand Ole Opry, which felt its 
image was being tarnished by the 
Alabama singer, dropped him. 

The last years of his life weren't 
too pleasant. He went back to the 
"Hayride," and too much liquor 
and quarreling led to a divorce 
from Audrey. He remarried, but he 
kept on sinking deeper into 

He died on New Year's Day, 
1953, and was buried in Mont- 
gomery where 25,000 people came 
to pay their last respects. Many, 
who laughed at him on stage when 
he was too drunk to walk, now 
came to weep. And, in fact, the 
highest point of his career was 
reached after his death. MGM 
rushed out one commemorative 
album after another and numerous 
singers recorded tribute albums to 
his memory. He was finally 
receiving the love and devotion he 
had wanted for all of the sad and 
lonely 29 years of his life. 

He had left a lifetime of music 
behind, and although his style had 
been basically one of the tradi- 
tional country singer, he was the 
first to cross over to the pop charts. 
His pure and earthy blues lyrics 
attracted many singers who 
substituted strings for a steel 
guitar, or added a drum beat 
where a fiddle originally fitted. 

Ray Charles, Dean Martin and 
Tony Bennett were among the 
many who have recorded his EW 
songs, and his music lives on. j^ 


By Robert Crumb 

In 1964, artist/writer Robert Crumb ("Fritz the Cat") penned these immortal 
line drawings and wrote this nostalgic ode to the American auto of the 50s. 

As we stand on the threshold of 
/k'The Great Society," scaling 
±M. new and dizzying levels of 
hipness and sophistication daily, 
let's not forget that we've only just 
come out of what has heen dubbed, 
by the merciful, "The Post War 
Era." The hlah tag fits. Though 
still a bit close, to us for truly objec- 
tive analysis, it's pretty generally 
agreed that those years pushed 
mediocrity as a way of life. It was 
"The Age of Bland Achievements," 
an era of complacency and indif- 
ference. All that was worthy, and 
there wasn't much, was ignored. 
Amorphous, inoffensive, uncom- 

mitted physical and mental blob 
and glob were exalted. 

It was a time of Ozzie Nelson, 
Loretta Young. The Mickey Mouse 
Club, Richard Nixon and Hawai- 
ian shirts. It was an era that saw 
the birth of television as the tyran- 
nical cyclops of the living room, ' 
prefab, look-alike housing develop- 
ments, unlovely shopping centers, 
motivational research, the Cold 
War, back-yard barbecues, fall-out 
shelters and the aimless, useless 
overproduction of a billion plastic, 
disposable "things" that kept 
millions employed without know- 
ing or caring where it would all 

lead. Happiness was a new car. 
And it was the time of the 
"heap." Nowhere, in any single 
object, is the noncommital, direc- 
tionless attitude of The Post War 
Era better expressed than in the 
fat, shapeless, chrome-plated pas- 
try, the bulbous, bulky monster, 
which had become the American 
automobile. These hymns to clum- 
siness, the pathetic Nash-Ramblers 
and Desotos that now sit like 
rusting mountains of awkward 
bathtubs in the junkyards of 
America, had become the ideals, 
the classics of the "Heap Years . " 

Bob Crumb, 1964 

One last, desperate fling was made to keep the 
heap alive, but it was a total disaster, a miserable 
failure. Nobody was buying heaps anymore. Sud- 
denly, there were all these funny little European 
cars all over the place, and Detroit saw the light. 
The "compact" was born. Then came the Ameri- 

can sportscar. And now, we've come full cycle, and 
the big, powerful classic commands the market 

The heap is dead. They just don't make cars like 
that anymore, thank whatever-it-is that guides the 
hand of Detroit and dictates public taste. 


By Bette Martin 

Their real lives were as tragic as their movie lives were dramatic, and with 
few exceptions — Swanson, being one — they turned victory into defeat. 


Bara, Hollywood's first 

vamp, on screen was the 

world's most evil woman. 

She started out as a stage 

actress and in 1914 won 

the lead in A Fool There 

Was. Thanks to the pub- 
licity about her — 'they said 

she -was the daughter of an 

Arabian princess, born in 
the shadow of the Sphinx, 

m ' a\ 

and weaned on serpents' 
blood — she was a hit. In all 
her films she was portrayed 

as wicked; an unfaithful 
wife in The Clemenceau ; a 
vengeful vampire in The 
Devil's Daughter and a 
murderess in Lady Aud~ 
ley's Secret. When Fox 
decided to change her 
image in Kathleen Mav- 
oureen her career was 
over. She died of cancer in 
1955 at the age of 65. 


"Jr. ■<f r 




Swanson never wanted to 
be an actress. She was 
happy being a sales clerk 
until an aunt took her to 
visit a film studio. Immed- 
iately she was given bit 

parts and before long 
Chaplin wanted her as his 
leading lady. She turned 
him down because she 
wanted to be a dramatic 
actress, but five years later 
she realized he was right — 
comedy was her forte. In 
1926, at the age of 28 she 
was Paramount's highest 

paid star. Why Change 
Your Wife?, Male and 
Female, Don 't Change 
Your Husband and Sunset 
Boulevard are among her 
greatest films. She was wed 
to Wallace Beery for three 
years, next to a Marquis and 
also reputedly involved 
with Joseph Kennedy. 

r * 

Ww' ^^ 

^ V / ^^^H 

Mae Murray 

"You live in a world of 

your own," a doctor once 

told Murray and he was 
tragically accurate. Taken 


with being a star, her 
eccentricities shocked 
everyone. She would not 
act unless mood music was 



played on the set and she 

rjJP ""H 

paid for her jewelry with 

bags of gold dust! Her best 

^riL ^w 

known films are Fascina- 

W 5fr _-# 

r ! 1^H 

tion, Valencia, The French 

W Wk 1 -'*'^' 

Doll and The Merry 

■ l^S^r 

Widow. When Hollywood 


tired of her she went back 
to doing Broadway 
musicals. Always dreaming 
of a comeback, she 
traveled back and forth 
between New York and 

■• JF^ 

5/ .^n 


Hollvwood by bus. Once 


she got lost at a stopover 

and was found wandering 

the streets of Kansas City. 

Several days later she died. 

^| Ml 

Yilma Banky 

^k ^K^B 

Another foreign import, 

^^^*V ^^^^H 

Banky was discovered by 

^v r - ^H ^^Q^bSN^^k 

Samuel Goldwyn himself. 

j|H ^H I^B^^^k 

While visiting Hungary he 

a j- ^^B ^^^E^s f? ^lL 

saw her in a local theatre 


and knew she would be the 

fl If 1^ 

perfect vamp to play 

.^fitttf;'' *^3| 

opposite Valentino, His 

^H Mr' ..lir^^ri \^3 ^BjT 

hunch was right. She made 

^Hteu^. TF^ ' ^* H 

The Eagle with him in 

1926 and fans were over- 

joyed at the magic between 

^1 ^r ^G^r^ '^^^w % 

these two sensual stars. 

When Valentino died 

Goldwyn cast Banky 


opposite his favorite new 


male star, Ronald 

Coleman. The Magic 

Flame proved Goldwyn to 


be right again. Coleman 

^ ~ X --*3r " 

and Banky were the 

^■L- ^^^ 

screen's newest duo. 


Vilma was making $5000 a 


week by the time talkies 

^SHhm^ 1 % 

came in. Her career came 

lr amrr 

to an end when a weight 

L ■* 

problem got out of hand. 

Harlow was an ash-blonde bit player in early comedy shorts, but when 
Howard Hughes picked her for Hell's Angels, she became a star. 


"I have no enemies because 
I have only friends" Jean 
once told a reporter. It was 
pure publicity and the 
exact opposite of the truth. 
Almost everyone around 
her — her studio, her 
parents, and even her 
husbands— exploited her 
and contributed to her 
early death at the age of 
26. Although sent to the 
best boarding schools, her 
childhood was lonely. Her 
mother was too immature 
to give her the love she 
needed, so at the age of 16 
Jean eloped. The marriage 
was soon ended and Jean 
moved to Los Angeles. 
There Jean worked as an 
extra because it seemed the 
simplest way to make some 

money. An agent visiting 
the Laurel and Hardy set 
one day asked her if she 
would like to star in 
Howard Hughes' Hell's 
Angels. "Sure," said Jean. 
Overnight she became 
the sex symbol of 

Hughes agreed to sell 
Jean's contract to MGM in 
1932 and Jean was given 
the opportunity to show 
what talent she had. In 
movies such as Red Dust, 
Hold Your Man, Bomb- 
shell, Goldie 
and Reckless, 

Jean established herself as 
the unscrupulous vamp 
with the fantastic sense of 
humor. Off screen Jean's 
life was no laughing 
matter. Her second 
marriage to Paul Bern 
ended, after a month, in 
tragedy and scandal. He 
killed himself, popular 
belief has it, because he 
had problems with 
impotence which he 
thought his marriage to 
Harlow could solve but 
didn't. A third marriage to 
a cameraman also ended in 
divorce. Financially Jean 
was always in debt because 
of her parents' extravagant 
tastes. Jean's health was 
bad and she ignored 
doctors' warnings. Her life 
took a turn for the better 
when she met William 
Powell. They were to be 
married but she died in 
1937 before the marriage 
was per/ormed. 

Pola Negri 


The first of Hollywood's 

jB^l^v ',' L*\' ii"%, ] 

European imports, Negri 

claimed to be a real gypsy" 

whose father was exiled in 

Siberia. She first studied 

ballet in Warsaw and then 

HPsHSfKfvMI * ^j^m- 

made films. Max Reinhardt 

Hp^^&HB Ip* t^| 'iH 

brought her to Berlin with 

him and made Pola one of 

Germany's top stars. Ernst 

Lubitsch, her discovery, 

directed her in Gypsy 

Blood, Carmen. Passion 


among others. Paramount 

4 v& ' i 

brought her to America in 

'TO / 

1923 when she was 29. The 

V V / ^ 

American public didn't like 

her. It was true 

isEfc # 

that she was not given the 


best scripts nor the 

*& ^ 

directors she requested. 

Her films did badly and 

she returned to Europe in 


1928. Her private life was 

full of scandal — she was 

romantically linked to 

^\ / 

Counts, Princes, Valen- 

c\ ? 

tino, and Adolf Hitler. 

^^M^^^B " il 

eiara Bow 

She was the screen's first 
blatant sex symbol — an 
openly flirtatious girl who 

fl^lH Efc^» 

didn't care who knew she 

wanted 'it.' Bow hit Holly- 

j^Kk Mr 

wood in 1925 and worked 

harder than any other 
actress — making 14 films a 
year. Some of her best 
were Daring Years, Kiss 
Me Again and Dangerous 
Curves. In 1929 she was 

ppp^X w ^ i "'WP^ 

the top female star and 

then scandal entered her 

life. She was linked to a 

married man, and slan- 


dered by her secretary who 


with drugs, alcohol and 
gigolos. She suffered a 
nervous breakdown and 

r ii9 

after making several futile 
attempts at a comeback, 

retired with her husband 


Rex Bell. In 1965 she died. 





5& s^i'; 

p<: -.,.i. " 


side of his mouth and th 

lowed the world famous . .. 

cry at full voice, onlyTarzan. such stories were only so much 

clear throughout the restaurant scare anybody, though. We had Shrugging his broad shoulders 

Different Cheetas were used in the 
filming: one for the close-ups and 
others for swinging on vines. 

and settling back at the bar again, 
Weissmuller took up his drink and 
said, "MGM was having trouble 
coming up with a believable 
Tarzan cry. They couldn't figure it 
out. They asked me what I could 
do, and I remembered an Austrian 
mountaineer's yodel my father had 
taught me when I was a kid. I tried 
the yodel and it worked for the 
soundmen. When they used it in 
the movie, they sped it up and 
played it backwards three times the 
normal speed. But it was my yodel 

Weissmuller said he felt flattered 
that the producers of new Tarzan 
films still used his ape call in their 
movies. Ron Ely, Jock Mahoney or 
Mike Henry might be wearing the 
loincloth in the film, but when 
they reared back to shake the 
jungle with an ape call, it was 
Weissmuller's yodel that was 
actually doing all the shaking. 

"I had a pretty good time 
making those Tarzan films," 
Weissmuller went on. "I only made 
one or so a year and the rest of the 
time I had free. We made the 

pictures in about six weeks in the 
beginning, then maybe three or 
four weeks when I went to RKO 
with Tarzan, but it was easy work. 
I liked to swim and most of the 

time I was in the water anyway. 
They never gave me much dialogue 
to remember." 

The most difficult part of 
making the Tarzan films, Weiss- 

"The trouble with the new Tarzan movies is they've been getting actors to 
play Tarzan . . . athletes do all the Tarzan things a lot better." 

muller said, was working with the 

"The elephants didn't really like 
anybody getting up on their 
backs," he said. "But whenever I 
had to shoot a scene with an 
elephant, first I'd spend some time 
with him and make friends with 
him. The director wanted to keep 
working of course, but I knew it 
was important to spend the time 
and make friends with the ele- 
phant. We always got along then." 

Weissmuller then talked about 
Gheeta, Tarzan *s pet monkey. 

"We used different Cheetas," he 
explained. "We had one Cheeta for 
close-ups and who was trained to 
sit at a table and eat with me. We 
used other Cheetas for things like 
running through the jungle and 
swinging on the vines. Sometimes 
Cheeta would get angry though. 
She didn't like working under all 
those hot lights for very long. If we 
couldn't change an angry Cheeta 
for another one, we'd have to wait 
until the monkey got quiet." . 

Weissmuller said that he himself 
had selected Johnny Sheffield to 
play Boy in Tarzan Finds A Son 
(1939), the movie in which Boy is 
first introduced to the screen. 

"They told me in the next picture 
Tarzan was going to have a son 
and they held an audition for the 
part," he said. "They asked me to 
look all the boys over and tell them 
which boy I thought would be 
best. When I saw this cute, little 
Johnny Sheffield in the group, I 
knew he was the one. I knew we 
could work together. But I found 
out he couldn't swim. But MGM 
didn't know that. They'd never 
have used him if they knew that. 
They wanted to start shooting the 
picture right away. So I told 
Johnny not to say anything. I told 
him on the side. I'd teach him how 
to swim, but don't tell anybody. So 
I told the studio he was the boy I 
wanted in the movie and after they 
signed him, I taught him how to 
swim and nobody ever knew about 

Weissmuller said he still sees 
Johnny Sheffield every so often. 
Now grown up, Sheffield is 
operating a real estate business in 

Santa Monica. But Weissmuller 
hasn't seen either Maureen O'Sul- 
livan or Brenda Joyce, both of 
whom played Jane in his films, in a 
long time. 

"The trouble with the new 
Tarzan movies," he said, "is 
they've been getting actors to play 
Tarzan. People like Buster Crabbe 
and I are athletes. The producers 
should hire athletes to play Tarzan. 
Athletes can run and swim and do 
all the Tarzan things a lot better. 
They look more believable as 

The most popular and famous 
Tarzan who ever was, Weissmuller 
said he'd been approached many 
times by producers who wanted to 
film his life story. But he's always 
turned them down. 

"They don't want to make the 
story I want them to make," he 
said. "They only want to make a 
movie about my Tarzan and Jungle 
Jim movies and my divorces. 
Especially my divorces. But that 
isn't what I want. I want them to 
tell everybody, especially the kids, 
how swimming changed my life. I 
wanted to grow up and be a part of 
Al Capone's gang in Chicago. But 
sports changed all that. Sports 
saved my life. But when I tell them 
that, they only say no, they're 
not interested in making a 
movie like that." 

Johnny Weissmuller straightened 
his broad shoulders stubbornly. 
"Well, I'm not interested in their 
kind of movie either," he said 

Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer signed 
Johnny Weissmuller in 1931 to play 
Tarzan in Edgar Rice Burroughs' 
Tarzan, The Ape Man, co-starring 
Maureen O'Sullivan as Jane, as a 

Maureen O'Sullivan was 

Weissmuller, the most famous of all the Tarzans 
played the role for 1 7 years from 1931 to 1948. 
Maureen O'Sullivan dropped out of the series in 
1942 when Tarzan went to RKO. 

result of an MGM talent scout 
having seen Weissmuller one day at 
a Los Angeles health club. At the 
time, Weissmullef was enjoying 
success as an Olympic swimming 
champion and modelling new 
swimsuits for the famous BVD 
Company. The talent scout told 
him that W.S. Van Dyke, the 
director, was getting ready to make 
a Tarzan movie at MGM and was 
casting for the part. The scout said 
he thought Weissmuller would be 
perfect in the role. 

"Van Dyke hired me right 
away," Weissmuller said. "MGM 
had some difficulties with the BVD 
Company because I was working 
for them, but they straightened it 
out and I played Tarzan. But some 
time later, I asked Van Dyke why 
he hired me almost the minute I 
came into his office when he'd been 
trying out others and making them 
do all sorts of tests. He said that 
when I walked into his office I had 
the dumbest look on my face and 

that was what he was looking for. 
Of course I went through picture 
taking and testing, but that was 
later. I still have the loincloth I 
wore. It's leather." 

Weissmuller grinned. "I guess I 
did look pretty dumb that day. 
Movies were something new to me 
and I didn't know much about 
them. And there I was at MGM, 
the big studio. I was kind of scared. 
I didn't know what to say or how 
to act." 

The world wide success of 
Tarzan, The Ape Man led to the 
making of a sequel, Tarzan and His 
Mate, in 1934. A real slam hangup 
jungle thriller complete with 
rampaging elephants, hordes of 
apes, man-eating lions and grue- 
some encounters with savage 
barbarian tribes, Tarzan and His 
Mate scored highly and prompted 
the studio to schedule even more 
Tarzan films with Weissmuller and 
O'Sullivan: Tarzan Escapes (1936), 
Tarzan Finds A Son (1939) intro- 

ducing Johnny Sheffield as Boy, 
Tarzan s Secret Treasure ( 1 94 1 ) 
and Tarzan's New York Adventure 
(1942). After that, both MGM and 
Maureen O'Sullivan dropped out 
of the series and Weissmuller and 
Sheffield swung over to RKO to 
continue as Tarzan and Boy in a 
brand new series of films produced 
by Sol Lesser, who had previously 
filmed Tarzan The Fearless (1933) 
with Buster Crabbe, and Tarzans 
Revenge (1937) with Glenn Morris. 
Like Weissmuller and Crabbe, 
Morris was also an Olympic star. 

"A lot of critics said I couldn't 
act," Weissmuller recalled. "Audi- 
ences never cared though. They 
just liked to see Tarzan in the 
jungle with his animals swinging 
through the trees and swimming 
and running. Besides, I never 
claimed to be an actor. I'm an 

It was a swimming instructor at 
a Chicago park who first got Weiss- 
muller interested in sports and 

"A lot of critics said I couldn't act. Audiences never cared though. They just 
liked to see Tarzan in the jungle with his animals." 

swimming. A skinny, gangling 
youth, Weissmuller's aspiration at 
the time was to join the Al Capone 
mob for fast money and women. 
He never cared that much for 
sports. But the instructor saw him 
swimming in the park's indoor pool 
one afternoon and told him he had 
a lot of potential. The instructor 
also told Weissmuller he shouldn't 
try getting in with the gangsters 
who had such a foothold in 
Chicago. If he wanted action, he 
advised, there was nothing like 
sports. So Weissmuller gave it a try. 

While Capone's mobsters were 
busy gunning themselves down on 
Chicago streets, Weissmuller 
worked at swimming and ultimate- 
ly became one of the greatest 
swimmers of all time, winning 
meets everywhere and even medals 
in the Olympics. Some of his swim 
records still haven't been broken. 

Weissmuller couldn't have been 
happier about the way it all 
worked out. 

"Sports saved my life," he said 
flatly. "They kept me from going 
into a life of crime." 

Continuing as Tarzan for Sol 
Lesser at RKO, Weissmuller star- 
red in six more Tarzan films, 
including Tarzan Triumphs (1943), 
Tarzan's Desert Mystery (1943), 
Tarzan and The Amazons (1945), 
Tarzan and The Leopard Woman 
(1946), Tarzan and The Huntress 
(1947) and Tarzan and The Mer- 
maids (1948). Johnny Sheffield was 
Boy in all but the last film ; by that 
time he had outgrown the part. 
Jane herself was absent from the 
first two films but then returned to 
Tarzan's jungles after a lengthy 
visit to her home country, 
England. Brenda Joyce starred as 
the new Jane in Tarzan and The 
Amazons, which saw Weissmuller 
and Sheffield travelling to Randini, 
a jungle port village, to meet her. 

After Tarzan and The Mermaids 

in 1948, Sol Lesser wanted Weiss- 

( Continued on page 72) 

The way they were 



By Walter H. Hogan 

"As for my feelings toward 'Over the Rainbow/ it's become a part of my life. 
I'm sure people sometimes get tears in their eyes when they hear it." 

The prosaic name of Esther 
Blodgett was changed by the 
Hollywood studio in A Star Is 
Born to the brighter sounding Vicki 
Lester, which would look good on 
a marquee. But the real Frances 
Gumm got her new name because 
of a misspelling on the marquee of 
the Oriental Theater in Chicago. 
The billing read: "The Glum 

George Jessel, headliner of that 
1931 vaudeville bill, had the man- 
agement correct the spelling to "The 
Gumm sisters, but didn't con- 
sider it that much of an improve- 
ment. So he suggested they keep 
the "G" of their name but change it 
to Garland after his close friend, 
Robert Garland, then drama critic 
of the New York World-Telegram. 
Then later the youngest sister (age 


"/ was horn at the age of 12 on the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer lot. I missed 
the gentle maturing most girls have. " 

''If you want fame, you have to pay for it. And J have. Even from my 
earliest days at MGM, when I was a child star with the great Mickey 
Rooney. . . There were good times, too. Mickey and I clung together 
like two on a lonely island. I guess that's when I learned to laugh at 
myself. It's the fun that gets you through the heartache and tears and 
misery. " 

"I've had mass love, and that's pretty good, I guess. But not individual 
love, which is so much better. " 

'"Whenever I'm on stage I have a love affair with my audience. I 
always have. " 

"All these years, without my audiences, I'd been nothing. I always felt 
that if I pleased them, it was my justification and my happiness. But 
it's changed for me now. Professional happiness doesn't last through 
the night. You can't take it home with you after the curtain rings 
down. It doesn't protect you from the terror of a lonely hotel room. 
And in a way, it destroys your soul to feed off applause. I know, I've 
tried to draw strength and security from it. But in the middle of the 
night, applause becomes an empty echo and you think, Cod, how am I 
going to make it until morning?" 

lO) of the trio thought the title of 
Hoagy Carmichael's then popular 
song was "peppy" and changed her 
name from Frances to Judy. 

And it was Judy Garland and 
her sisters who, after being turned 
down at Universal, went to MGM 
to audition. Producer Arthur Freed 
recalled that "Judy's mother played 
piano, and she played pretty bad 
piano. I heard them sing two or 
three songs, and 1 finally said let 
me hear the little girl sing alone." 

Judy sang "Zing Went the 
Strings of My Heart." Freed said 
she was a "natural." Roger Edens, 
specialist in musical numbers at 
MGM, said, '"I knew instantly, in 
eight bars of music. The talent was 
that inbred. . . .It was like dis- 
covering gold at Sutter's Creek." 

Louis B. Mayer, head of the 
studio, was summoned to hear the 
plump, pretty, 13 year old Judy 
sing. And he agreed. "He promptly 
signed her," wrote Joe Morella and 
Edward Epstein in Judy, "to a 
contract, without making her take 
a screen or sound test — the only 
time in the history of MGM that a 
player was signed without a test. 
When Mayer signed Judy to a 
contract, he did so without having 
a particular role in mind for her. 

"Within less than five years, 
little Judy Garland would be 
firmly established as one of the 

Judy in 1944's Meet Me In St. Louis, 
which is listed as one of Variety's all- 
time boxoffice champions. 

Clockwise from left: The Wicked 
Witch of the West (Margaret Hamilton) 
spies on Dorothy (Judy) and the Straw 
Man (Ray Bolger) who are on the 
yellow brick road in The Wizard of Oz 
(1939). The Tin Man (Jack Haley) with 
Dorothy and the Straw man. The four 
happy pilgrims dance through the 
poppies, including Bert Lahr as the 
Cowardly Lion. Opposite page, the 
four meet with a suspicious guard at 
the gates of the Emerald City. 

For her performance in The Wizard of Oz Hollywood awarded Judy a special 
miniature Oscar and also invited her to do the cement bit at Grauman's. 

biggest box-office draws in motion 
pictures, and one of MGM's 
all-time moneymakers." 

But that first contract, in 1935, 
was for $150 a week, and for that 
Mayer acquired for his studio what 
Jules Styne, composer, called "one 
of the great singing talents of all 

"Hers was an extraordinary 
talent," wrote John Kobal in 50 
Super Stars, "in fact, her problem 
was that she became almost 
physically overwhelmed by these 
natural endowments. The sparkle, 
comedy and freshness noticeable in 
her early parts were later trans- 
formed into the finest m usical 
comedy talent Hollywood ever 
knew, and in her later years she 
became a formidable dramatic 

But in the beginning, MGM 

didn't quite know what to do with 
Judy, so she rehearsed two hours a 
day, six days a week with Roger 
Edens: "Never on scales," he said, 
"just singing and working on the 
arrangements that I wrote for her." 
Judy once said, "I never did learn 
to read music, but I had a true ear." 
She was 14 before she got on 
film, and then she was belting 
"swing" while Deanna Durbin 
sang "Classical" in a two-reel short 
subject called "Every Sunday." 
Then the studio dropped the 
options of both girls, but Arthur 
Freed intervened and saw that 
MGM kept Judy, whose first full- 
length picture, in 1936, was on 
loan-out to 20th Century-Fox. The 
film was Pigskin Parade, and the 
New York Times review said : "Also 
in the newcomer category is Judy 
Garland, about whom the West 

Coast has been enthusing as a vocal 
find. . . .She's cute, not too pretty, 
but a pleasingly fetching person- 
ality, who certainly knows how to 
sell a pop." That picture "was the 
first and last time," wrote James 
Juneau in his book Judy Garland, 
"Metro permitted Judy Garland to 
stray off the lot while under 
contract to them." 

Back on her home lot Judy per- 
formed at a studio party to cele- 
brate Clark Gable's 36th birthday 
(Feb. 1, 1937). With special 
material Roger Edens had written 
for the number, she sang "You 
Made Me Love You" to the actor 
who was moved by the emotion 
Judy projected. He later sent her a 
gold bracelet on which was 
engraved : "To My Girl Friend, 
Judy Garland, from Clark Gable." 
And the studio thought so well of 

For Clark Gable's 36th birthday, Judy 
sang: "DearMr. Gable, You Made Me 
Love You, " by Roger Edens. 

the number it inserted "Dear Mr. 
Gable" into one of its 30s' musical 
catch-all series, The Broadway 
Melody of 1938. Judy's Decca 
record of the song, a great success, 
brought her her first national 
recognition. But the great fame to 
come was two years away. 

Also in '37 she appeared in 
Thoroughbreds Don 't Cry, the first 
picture she made with the partner 
she called "the great Mickey 
Rooney." The following year 
Mayer put her in Mickey's famous 
Hardy series as Betsy Booth in Love 
Finds Andy Hardy. In '38 she was 
billed after Allan Jones but before 
Fannie Brice in Everybody Sing. 
She was billed between Freddie 
Bartholomew and Mary Astor in 

Listen, Darling, in which Judy 
sang her audition song, "Zing 
Went the Strings of My Heart." In 
her A Life on Film Mary Astor said 
that "working with Judy was a 
sheer joy. She was young and vital 
and got the giggles regularly. You 
just couldn't get annoyed, because 
she couldn't help it — it was no act. 
Something would strike her funny, 
and her face would get red and 
'There goes Judy!' would be the 
cry. And we just had to wait until 
she got over it, She was a kid, a real 
kid. It didn't take long for her to 
get over that." 

Then came the movie and song 
that catapulted Judy to inter- 
national fame, yet she was almost 
done out of both. Though Pro- 
ducers Arthur Freed and Mervyn 
LeRoy wanted Judy to play 
Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, the 
MGM money men felt they should 
play it safe, so they sought to 
borrow Shirley Temple (then 10) 
for the role. When negotiations 
stalled, they agreed to Judy. "That 
they didn't have much confidence 
in this choice," wrote Juneau, "is 
suggested by the steps taken by 
Jack Dawn's makeup department, 
which worked her over so much 
that Judy Garland was nearly 
obliterated with a blonde wig, a 
remodeled nose and caps on her 
teeth." [Doesn't this sound like 
what happened to Esther Blodgett 
in A Star Is Born?] "The inadvis- 
ability of this refurbishing was 
recognized after three weeks of 
shooting. Production was halted, 
and it was decided to take Judy 
Garland as she was." To the 
delight of the audiences in '39 and 
every showing since! This delight- 
ful, impeccably cast, from sepia- 
Kansas to Technicolor -Oz film has 
constantly enchanted moviegoers 
and TV viewers since its premiere 
at New York's Capitol Theater on 
August 17, 1939. And then there's 
the song that became Judy's trade- 
mark, Harold Arlen's and "Yip" 
Harburg's "Over the Rainbow." 
But after an early preview, the 
song was cut from the film. Then 
Freed had it put back in before the 
picture was released. And the song 
became hers forever. 

"As for my feelings toward 'Over 
the Rainbow,' it's become part of 
my life," Judy once wrote to Arlen. 
"It is so symbolic of all my dreams 
and wishes that I'm sure that's why 
people sometimes get tears in their 


"Judy Carland was that most lovable of American phenomena, the 
glamourous Hollywood personality with the built-in destruct 

— Vincent Canby 

"A Garland audience doesn't just listen. It feels. It wants to put its arms 
around her." 

— Spencer Tracy 

"I've made 105 pictures, only four of them with Judy. But I never 
ceased to wonder how God had given so much talent to one little 
person ! " 

— Joe Pasternak 

"Whenever I see her before an audience now, coming on with the 
authority of a great star and really taking hold of an audience, I know 
that every single heartbreak she had when she was a little girl, every 
number that was taken away, every disappointment, went into the 
making of this authority. But that, of course, is the way to learn 
theater. " 

— Noel Coward 

"In Hollywood, Judy was a commodity. She was therefor exploitation. 
When they saw they had a moneymaker, they used her to the hilt — 
unwisely and. inhumanly, with no conception of the psychological 
treatment of a human being. " 

—E. Y. Harburg 

"She was good in every sense of the word. Respectful of her elders and 
fellow performers, never precocious. A natural musician. She could 
'turn' a song like a good writer can turn a phrase. Her acting instincts 
were impeccable. Yet she was sweet and simple. We adored her. " 

— Ray Bolger 

"She was the most sympathetic, the funniest, the sharpest, and the 
most stimulating woman I ever knew. " 

— James Mason 

"I wish you could mention the joy she had for life. That's what she 
gave me. If she was the tragic figure they said she was, I would be a 
wreck, wouldn't I? 

"It was her love of life that carried her through everything. The 
middle of the road was never for her. It bored her. She wanted the 
pinnacle of excitement. If she was happy, she wasn't just happy. She 
was ecstatic. And when she teas sad, she was sadder than an ybody .... 
She was a great star and a great talent, and for the rest of my life I will 
be proud to be Judy Garland's daughter. " 

—Liza Minnelli 

eyes when they hear it." 

Writing of her historic perfor- 
mances at New York's Palace 
Theatre in '51, Mel Torme said in 
The Other Side of the Rainbow: 
"And the final pin-dropping 
moments when she sat, in the 
tramp costume on the edge of the 
stage, legs dangling over, lighted 
only by a single spotlight, and sang 
'Over the Rainbow' was for me, 
and everyone else, one of the few 
really great pieces of theater we 

would ever see." 

"In England, after a command 
performance," wrote Mickey Deans 
(Judy's fifth husband) and Ann 
Pinchot in Weep No More, My 
Lady, "the queen mother told Judy 
that she felt her throat tighten 
whenever she heard 'Over the 

" 'Ma'am,' Judy replied, 'that 
song has plagued me all my life. 
You know, it's hard to be remem- 
bered by a song you first sang 

Judy and Mickey Rooney had starred in so many films together that, by 1940, 
the Judy-Mickey team had begun to take on the aura of a national resource. 

thirty years ago. It's like being a 
grandmother in pigtails.'" 

Yet when the TV staff suggested 
a funny bit built around the song 
for the first show of her 1963 series, 
Judy would have none of it and 
said so sternly. "There will be no 
jokes of any kind about 'Over the 
Rainbow.' It's kind of. . .sacred. 1 
don't want anybody anywhere to 
lose the thing they have about 
Dorothy or that song!" 

For her performance as Dorothy, 
Hollywood awarded Judy a special 
miniature Oscar, presented to her 
by Rooney. She was also invited to 
do the cement bit at Grauman's 
Chinese Theatre. 

Then came three pictures in a 
row with Mickey as co-star: Babes 
in Arms, Andy Hardy Meets 
Debutante, and Strike Up the 
Band. In 1940, the Mickey-Judy 
team had the aura of a national 
resource. In all, they made eight 
films together. In Little Nelly Kelly 
Judy began to show she could 
handle adult as well as juvenile 
roles — and played two parts, 
mother and daughter. 

In 1941's Ziegfeld Girl Judy was 
billed after James Stewart but 
before Hedy Lamarr and Lana 
Turner. 1942's For Me and My Gal 
marked the first time Judy was the 
only star billed above the title. 

In 1944 Judy didn't want to 
make Meet Me In St. Louis, but 
Freed persuaded her to do it and 
after the preview she told the 
producer, "Arthur, remind me not 
to tell you what kind of pictures to 
make." The role of Esther Smith 
became one of Judy's favorites, and 
some of the songs— "The Trolley 
Song," "The Roy Next Door — be- 
came Garland trademark tunes. 
And the picture was the biggest 
grosser MGM had up to that time, 
topped only by Gone With the 
Wind. Oh, two other important 
things: she was now making 
$5,000 a week, And that picture 
was directed by Vincente Minnelli, 
who also directed her and Robert 

Judy with her javorite co-star Mickey 
Rooney in Girl Crazy (1943). Stephen 
McNally &■ Angela Lansbury and Judy 
in The Harvey Girls (1946). 





I "% 

IT " "^^ 

■ W' \ 

t/ J 




Get Happy" number from Summer Stock, her last film for MGM. 

Walker in her dramatic hit of '45, 
The Clock. On June 15, a week 
after her divorce from David Rose 
became final, Judy married 
Minnelli. A year later Liza was 

Hit followed hit now. In '46 
therecame "The Harvey Girls"and 
the song, "On the Atchison, 
Topeka and the Santa Fe." then 
Ziegfeld Follies, and Newsweek 
said, "In 'A Great Lady Has an 
Interview," Judy Garland, with six 
leading men, displays an unex- 
pected flair for occupational 
satire." Two of the brightest spots 
in Till the Clouds Roll By were her 
scenes as Marilyn Miller doing 
"Look for the Silver Lining" and 
"Who" (directed by Minnelli). He 
also directed her next film with 

Gene Kelly, The Pirate, which 
Freed said was twenty years ahead 
of its time. Her next film, in '48 
was one of her biggest successes, 
Easter Parade, in which she got top 
billing over Fred Astaire. Said 
Freed: "The only reason Irving 
Berlin let me buy the picture was 
because he wanted to do a picture 
with Judy." 

MGM wanted to re- team her 
with Astaire but Judy was now not 
in good health so Ginger Rogers 
was his partner in The Barkleys of 
Broadway. All the pills that Mayer 
and her mother had fed Judy were 
beginning to take their toll. From 
the beginning they'd wanted the 
plump child thin (Judy was just 
five feet tall), so there was little 
food and lots of diet pills, sleeping 

pills, pep pills, uppers, downers; 
and nervous exhaustion. 

When they were making Words 
and Music in 1948, Torme and 
Rooney were waiting on the set for 
Judy so they could film the "Wish I 
Were in Love Again" number. Said 
Mickey: "Pal, if she isn't here, 
there's a damn good reason for it. 
And when she shows— and she'll 
show, believe me — she'll jump 
right in and be the best frigging 
thing in the picture!" 

At 3 p.m. on the third day of the 
wait, Judy showed. And proved 
Mickey right. Later, Mickey said, 
"Judy has the uncanny ability to 
get in there and 'pull it off.' When 
we made Babes in Arms and Strike 
Up the Band, she winged some of 
the numbers without a hell of a lot 
of rehearsal, and they worked out 
just great." 

MGM bought the Broadway hit, 
Annie Get Your Gun, for Judy, 
who insisted Busby Berkeley be 
replaced as director. She walked 
out on the film till the studio 
agreed. She pre-recorded her 
songs, but, ill, couldn't keep up 
with the production schedule. The 
studio suspended her, sent her to a 
clinic, and from Paramount bor- 
rowed Betty Hutton for Annie. 

After three months, Judy came 
back to work in Summer Stock. 
During the six months it took to 
make the musical, her weight 
fluctuated considerably. When 
they filmed the added-on "Get 
Happy" number two months after 
the picture was finished, Judy had 
lost between fifteen and twenty 
pounds. The picture was a success. 
Producer Pasternak said that the 
audience "didn't care what she 
looked like. They loved her. I don't 
think any actress was as loved by 
the American public as Judy." 

It was her last picture at MGM. 
When her illness caused delays on 
Royal Wedding, the studio sus- 
pended her and brought in Jane 
Powell to co-star with Astaire. The 
despondent Judy broke a glass and 
tried to slash her throat. The 
adverse publicity was the last straw 
for MGM, which released her. 

Years later Deans asked her how 
she happened to leave MGM and 
wrote of her response: "She looked 
at me, her enormous eyes reflecting 
a wicked gleam. 'Leo the Lion bit 

In the last 19 years of her life, 
during which she was making 

At her funeral in New York, in a tribute unequaled since the time of Rudolph 
Valentino, more than 22,000 people came to pay their respects. 

theatrical history and headlines 
(some pro, some con) in London, 
New York, Australia, Judy made 
only six films, but in two of them 
she earned Academy Award 

The first was for her perfor- 
mance in A Star is Born, produced 
by her third husband, Sid Luft, 
who had set up and encouraged 
her vaudeville engagements. In 
The Celluloid Muse, Director 
George Cukor said, "James Mason's 
performance as Norman Maine 
was terribly good, very moving, 
but I don't think it was the equal of 
Garland's. I thought she was 
absolutely staggering." 

In its Sept. 13, 1954 issue, Life 
said; "A Star Is Born, the year's 
most worrisome movie, has turned 
out to be one of the best." Warner's 
budget was $2.5 million. "But it 
was stretched out agonizingly by 
perfectionist Judy's insistence on 
endless retakes, her demands for 
new musical numbers, her fiery 
temperament, her boundless en- 
ergy. Star took 10 months and a 
staggering $6 million to make. The 
result, however, a brilliantly 
staged, scored, and photographed 
film, was worth all the effort." Life 
also said Judy "puts herself right in 
line for an Oscar." It went that 
year- to Grace Kelly for The 
Country Girl. 

Because of cuts the studio made 
after the film's initial release, 
Cukor said the picture was "totally 
fragmented. I think it accounts for 
why Judy Garland didn't win an 

In 1961 Judy was nominated as 
Best Supporting Actress for her 
brief but stunning appearance in 
Judgement at Nuremberg. The 
award went to Rita Moreno for 
West Side Story. 

The next year Judy provided the 
voice for Mewsette in Gay Purr-ee. 
In 1963 she made her last two 
films. Of A Child is Waiting, Time 
said : "The film is bone honest and 
at moments mortally moving. 
Garland is good." During the 
filming of / Could Go On Singing, 
Judy fought a bitter court battle 
with Sid Luft over the custody of 
their children, Lorna and Joey. In 
her New York Herald Tribune 

Judy doing -The Man That Cot Away" from A Star Is Born (1954). 



For Me and My Gal 


Presenting Lilly Mars. Girl 
Crazy. Thousands Cheer 

1936: Every Sunday, Pigskin 


Meet Me in St. Louis 



The Clock 

1937: Broadway Melody of 1938. 


The Harvey Girls, Ziegjeld 

Thoroughbreds Don't Cry 

Follies. Till the Clouds Roll 

1938: Everybody Sing. Listen. 


Darling, Love Finds Andy 


The Pirate, Easter Parade, 


Words and Music 

1939: The Wizard oj Oz, Babes in 


in the Good Old Summer- 



1940: Andy Hardu Meets Debu- 


A Star Is Born 

tante, Strike Up the Band. 



Little Nellie Kelly 


Judgment at Nuremberg 

1941 : Ziegjeld Girl. Lije Begins for 


Gay Purr-ee 

Andy Hardy. Babes on 


A Child is Waiting. I Could 


Go On Singing 

review, Judith Crist said: "Either 
you are or you aren't — a Judy 
Garland fan, that is. And if you 
aren't, forget about her new 
movie, / Could Go On Singing, 
and leave the discussion to us 
devotees. . . .Miss Garland is— as 
always — real, the voice throbbing, 
the eye aglow, the delicate features 
yielding to the demands of the 
years — the legs still long and 
lovely. Certainly the role of a top- 
rank singer beset by the loneliness 
and emotional hungers of her 
personal life is not an alien one to 

"On June 22, 1969, at the age of 

47, Judy Garland died at her home 
in London. (Scotland Yard ruled 
out suicide and foul play; final 
decision : "Accidental death due to 
an uncautious dose of barbitu- 
rates.") At her funeral in New 
York, in a tribute unequaled since 
the time of Rudolph Valentino, 
more than 22,000 people came to 
pay their last respects to Judy," 
wrote Morella and Epstein. "They 
proved that her tremendous fol- 
lowing came from every age and 
walk of life." 

Said Variety: "Even in the end, 
Judy Garland made show CJ" 
business history." ^yj 



(Continued from page 63) 

muller to make more Tarzan films 
but Weissmuller balked at signing 
a new contract with the producer. 
He wanted a better deal. Television 
was coming up strong and he knew 
many studios were already selling 
their films to the new wonder 
medium. Instead of simply being 
payed outright for his work as 
Tarzan, Weissmuller wanted a 
percentage of the films. He thought 
it was only fair. After all, studios 
had been making so much money 
from his Tarzan movies ever since 
1932 and he wasn't getting any 
younger. Besides, Sam Katzman, 
another producer, was waving a 
choice contract that included 
percentage if Weissmuller would 
come over to Columbia Pictures 
and star in a series of jungle action 
films based on Alex Raymond's 
Jungle Jim comic strip. 

Weissmuller talked a new 
contract over with Lesser, but it 
was Lesser's turn to balk now. The 
producer didn't want to give 
Weissmuller a percentage of the 
new films and said his company 
could continue making Tarzan 
films very well without Weiss- 
muller. The name Tarzan is what 
sold the films. Lesser said, not the 
name of Johnny Weissmuller. Still, 
Weissmuller remained firm about 
his position and shortly thereafter 
Lesser signed Lex Barker as the 
new movie Tarzan while Weiss- 
muller went to Sam Katzman and 
Columbia to begin the new series 
of Jungle Jim movies. 

"I remember reading in news- 
papers that I wasn't going to make 
any more Tarzan films because I 
had put on too much weight," 
Weissmuller said that afternoon at 
the Kowloon. "But that wasn't it. I 
had put on weight but it didn't 
matter to Lesser. I quit the Tarzan 
movies myself. Because I couldn't 
get a good contract. Lesser wanted 
me to stay and make a lot more 
Tarzan movies." 

For Sam Katzman, Johnny 
Weissmuller starred in 13 Jungle 
Jim films, including Jungle Jim 
(1948), The Lost Tribe (1949), 
Mark of The Gorilla (1950), Pygmy 
Island (1950), Fury of The Congo 
(1951), Jungle Manhunt (1951), 

The Captive Girl (1952) with 
Buster Crabbe, Voodoo Tiger 
(1952), Jungle Jim in The Forbid- 
den Land (1952), Valley of The 
Headhunters (1953), Savage Mu- 
tiny (1953), Killer Ape (1953) and 
Jungle Man-Eaters (1954), In three 
additional films, Cannibal Attack 
(1954), The Devil Goddess (1954) 
and Jungle Moon Men (1955), 
Weissmuller didn't play Jungle Jim 
but went under his own name in 
the stories, playing himself. Katz- 
man, unlike Sol Lesser, had 
decided Weissmuller's name was 
just as well known, or even more 
so, than Jungle Jim's, so" the 
producer eliminated Jungle Jim 
from the scripts. In that same year 
of 1955 though, Weissmuller re- 
turned as Jungle Jim for the first 
of two seasons on television, in a 
new half hour format. Weiss- 
muller's jungle companion in all 
these films was Tamba, the chimp. 
While making the Jungle Jim 
movies, Weissmuller said he would 
hear from theatre managers that 
his Jungle Jim films were making 
more money than Sol Lesser's new 
Tarzan films. A lot of times, he 
said, a theatre would even book a 
reissue of one of his older Tarzan 
films rather than play a new 
Tarzan film. Weissmuller said his 
fan mail gave him the answer as to 
why the Jungle Jim's were doing 
better than the new Tarzan's 
though. People who had liked him 
as Tarzan simply kept on going to 
see him as Jungle Jim. Jungle Jim 
was merely Tarzan with clothes 

on. Besides, no one could replace 
him as Tarzan. He was Tarzan. 

Today, Weissmuller owns the 
Johnny Weissmuller American 
Health Food shop on Hollywood 
Blvd. where at least one window is 
colorfully decorated with full color 
posters and 8x10 movie stills from 
his many Tarzan and Jungle Jim 
films. Weissmuller himself, mar- 
ried again, lives in Las Vegas 
where he is the entertainment 
director at Caesar's Palace. Not 
long ago, Weissmuller and Gordon 
Scott, who played Tarzan in six 
films after Lex Barker quit the role, 
both appeared at a Las Vegas 
banquet. When they walked on 
stage together, they received a 
thunderous standing ovation. But 
Scott, who was also a very popular 
Tarzan, stepped up to the micro- 
phone and modestly said, "I know 
who all the applause was for!" 
More recently, in August 1974, 
Weissmuller hosted a "Tarzan 
Movie Night" at the Las Vegas 
Public Library, where they ran 
some of his films. The auditorium 
was packed. 

There have been many Tarzans 
both before and after Johnny 
Weissmuller's 16 year stint as the 
ape man, but it's Weissmuller who 
is still most often identified with 
the role. Even today, in new 
Tarzan films, Weissmuller's world 
famous ape call rings loud and 
clear throughout the steaming, 
danger-wrought world of jungle 
movie adventures — where he 
is, undisputedly, still the king. 

Rumor tOOS that Weissmuller put on too much weight to play Tarzan after 1948, 
but actually he quit the role over contract troubles with Lesser. 

(Continued pom page 37) 

daily to homes as far as Boston and 

Another unique bit of advertis- 
ing the Pinkhams did was to 
disclose the ingredients of the tonic 
and even tell how it was made. 
Most patent medicines of that time 
were supposed to contain secret 
ingredients but Lydia thought 
women would have more confi- 
dence in her Compound if they 
knew what they were taking. Each 
batch of Lydia E. Pinkham Vege- 
table Compound contained : 
6 ounces of Life Root 
8 ounces of False Unicorn Root 
8 ounces of True Unicorn Root 
6 ounces of Black Cohosh 
6 ounces of Pleurisy Root 
12 ounces of Fenugreek Seed 
They were cooked, strained, 
mashed, and bottled in a base of 18 
percent alcohol as a preservative. 

By 1876 the business had pros- 
pered to the point that Lydia 
began receiving large amounts of 
mail from customers with female 
problems or those acclaiming their 
cure by taking her remedy. She 
conscientiously answered every 
letter personally. 

It was about this time that her 
son Dan had a marvelous idea. 
Why not use his mother's picture 
on the label and in every ad? Her 
sober motherly face might prove to 
endear her even more to the hearts 
of women everywhere. Dan was 
certainly right, as it was said at 
one time Lydia's face was the best 
known female face in the country. 
The new label featured not only 
her picture but her signature, 
"Yours for Health, Lydia E. Pink- 
ham." With this new element, the 
family embarked on an even 
greater advertising campaign, 
which really paid off. The business 
grew to such proportions they had 
to purchase the house next door 
and convert it into a laboratory. 

The extra room was not only 
needed to make and distribute the 
remedy but also to handle the 
mountains of mail received daily. 
Lydia, relying on her nursing 
experience, gave common sense 
advice not only on female problems 
but also on kidney ailments, 
allergies and just about any 
common disease. Her replies were 

considered "Wise, kindly, and 
shrewd." When the burden of 
answering the mail became too 
much for Lydia to handle, her 
daughter helped her out and 
eventually, an entire staff was 
needed. Each letter was still 
personally signed by Lydia though. 
The family enjoyed the prosper- 
ity to which they had so long 
looked forward. Lydia Pinkham 
became so well known that 
humorists made jokes about her 
and one even nominated her for 
President, College boys were heard 
singing these words to a favorite 
hymn of the time, "I Will Sing of 
My Redeemer". . . 

"Tell me, Lydia, of your secrets 
And the wonders you perform, 
How you take the sick and ailing, 
And restore them to the norm? 

Mrs. Jones of Walla Walla, 
Mrs. Smith of Kankakee, 
Mrs. Cohen, Mrs. Murphy, 
Sing your praises lustily. 

Lizzie Smith had tired feelings, 

Terrible pains reduced her 

She began to take the Com- 

Now she weighs three hundred 

There's a baby in every bottle, 
So the old quotation ran, 
But the Federal Trade Commis- 
Still insists you'll need a man. 

Oh, Yes, we'll sing of Lydia 

And her love for the human race, 
How she sells her Vegetable 

And the papers, the papers they 

They publish her FACE!! 

But tragedy again struck the 
Pinkhams. Lydia's beloved sons, 
Dan and Will, both died of con- 
sumption in 1881 . Then Lydia 
herself suffered a stroke and after 
many months of being bedridden, 
she passed away May 17th 1883. 

Her son Charles and daughter 
Aroline, along with Aroline's 
husband, Will Gove, carried on the 
business so smoothly that the 
customers still bought the Vege- 
table Compound and still wrote to 

Lydia for advice. 

Even though stories periodically 
hinted about Lydia's demise, cus- 
tomers refused to believe their dear 
counselor was gone. It was not 
until 1902, when Ladies Home 
Journal published a photo of her 
tombstone that the general public 
realized that Lydia E. Pinkham 
had been dead for over 19 years! 

Faith in the Vegetable Com- 
pound never wavered, however, 
and sales actually doubled at a 
period when a national scandal 
attacked the patent medicine 

Before the Federal Food and 
Drug Act in 1906, every newspaper 
and magazine promoted hundreds 
of "home remedies" that boasted 
highly exaggerated claims, cures, 
and testimonials. 

White many famous medicines 
proved to be not much more than 
alcohol and colored water, Lydia 
E. Pinkham Vegetable Compound 
actually contained six old Indian 
herbs; two of which (Aletris or 
True Unicorn Root and Aslepeas or 
Pleurisy Root) did in fact contain 
mild estrogen hormones. Unbe- 
knownst to poor dead Lydia, she 
really was years ahead of her time 
in the treatment of women's 
menstrual disorders and meno- 

The claims of the label were 
toned down a bit and the alcohol 
was reduced from 18% eventually 
to 13 1 /2%, but the customers still 
marched to their local drug 
counters for their Vegetable Com- 

After celebrating the 100th 
Anniversary of the Pinkham 
business in 1973, Lydia's remaining 
great-grandsons recently an- 
nounced that they were selling 
their share. 

Herman E. Smith, one of the 
heirs, who for years tasted every 
batch of the Compound said, "It 
has a bitter, nut-like flavor with a 
faint after-taste of licorice." 

Even though, after 100 years, 
there will no longer be Pinkhams in 
the Vegetable Compound business, 
Lydia's face remains on the box 
containing every bottle, and she 
still promises to "revive drooping 
spirits, give elasticity and firmness 
to the step, restore lustre to the eye 
and plant on the pale cheek of 
every woman the fresh roses of 
life's spring and summer IM 

time." 3L 



op cisiRTOdns 

(Continued from page 26) 

and various outdoor sports. A 
common strip type, Coulton 
Waugh described him as reflecting 
"a specific yearning in the souls of 
millions of men who resemble him 
closely. . .the nervous, exasperated 
little business husband. Physically 
stunted, with tiny chest and 
shoulders and sagging stomach, he 
has the usual out-reaching comic 
nose, scratchy mustache and pop 
eyes. His hair is falling out, and 
even when asleep, there is an 
exasperated set to the lines about 
his mouth and forehead which 
reflects the exhaustion brought on 
by the complex problem of earning 

In the early 30s, after the strip 
had changed its name to Joe Jinks, 
he became a fight manager. In the 
comics, as occasionally happens 
even in real life, there can be more 
than one heavyweight champion of 
the world. Joe's -fighter Dynamite 
Dunn held the heavyweight crown 
during most of the years when Joe 
Palooka was also heavyweight 
champ. Dynamite was a square- 
jawed fellow, in the Captain Easy- 
mold, and a lot brighter than the 
other champ. Forsythe drew the 
strip until the 30s, then went over 
to Hearst to try similar things. He 
came back to Joe for awhile before 
quitting for good. 

Joe Jinks surely must hold the 
record for strips drawn by the most 
different artists. Pete Llanuza, 
sports cartoonist for the World- 
Telegram, did it until 1936. The 

Sunday page was then taken over 
by Moe Leff, with a little help from 
his brother Sam. After the Leffs 
left, Hefiry Formhals, who'd been 
ghosting the Ella Cinders Sundays 
and was now ghosting the Freckles 
dailies, assumed the Joe Jinks 
Sunday. The daily, meantime, 
enjoyed a different batch of car- 
toonists. Harry Homan, political 
cartoonist and creator of a Sunday 
page called Billy Make Believe, 
handled the daily until his death in 
1939. Then the Joe Jinks pen was 
passed from George Storm to Al 
Kostuk to Morris Weiss to Al 
Leiderman and finally to Sam 
Leff. Leff, working in a style 
which was a simplified version of 
his brother's, introduced Joe to a 
new prize fighter. This was Curly 
Kayoe. Joe became Curly's man- 
ager, Curly became heavyweight 

champ and the strip changed its 
name to his. 

By the end of World War II, 
enthusiasm for funny paper jocks 
had considerably waned, and very 
few new sports strips have been 
born since. Ray Gotto's Ozark Ike 
arrived in 1945, a meticulously 
rendered feature about a rube 
ballplayer. Gotto is said to have 
been so painstaking that he rarely 
made a deadline and the strip was 
turned over to other artists. The 
last to do it was a man calling 
himself Ed Strops (which is sports 
spelled backwards). In 1950, illus- 
trator John Cullen Murphy got 
together with Al Capp's brother 
Elliott, the one who used to live on 
milk and carrots, to create Big Ben 
Bolt, and Ben also became heavy- 
weight champ as funny paper EPQ 
fighters always seem to do. Jnfti 


(Continued from page 33) 


1. Dale Long, who achieved his 
still unbroken consecutive 
home run record in 1956 with 
the Pittsburgh Pirates. 

2. Ken Hubbs of the Chicago 
Cubs. In February 1964 he was 
killed flying his own plane near 
Provo, Utah. 

3. Lou Boudreau of the 1948 
Cleveland Indians. 

4. Eddie Yost, who played for the 
Washington Senators through- 
out most of his career (1944-62) . 

5. Pete Grav, St. Louis Browns, 


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6. The very same Ted Williams. 

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10. "Spahn and Sain, and two days 
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